Nightfall
by LittleFlowerLei
Summary: V:tMB Abandoned by her sire,Violet had no choice but to turn to LaCroix.But when he sets his sights on the Ankaran Sarcophagus, things get a bit more complicated than expected. LaCroix/Main Character.Rated for language,future scenes. chapter 21 up
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_0. Prologue_

**10 years earlier…**

The only sound I could hear through my thick blanket of sleep was the omnipresence ticking of the elegant, antique French clock that sat on the mantle. It once belonged to my grandmother, who gave it to my mother right before she died of a stroke in 1993, last year. It was a beautiful golden clock that had roman numerals for numbers, and two sharp hands that pointed at the numbers like putting knives to their throats.

My older sister, Lynette, and I had moved back into our parents' home after our attempt to live on our own. Lynette had rented an apartment with me in Hollywood; a glamorous apartment for two; single girls in their early twenties to start their adult life. Our apartment was a beautiful mix of red wallpaper and green curtains; containing two bedrooms and one bathroom. The floor was made of shining dark wood, and we had a flat screen which we put downstairs. Our apartment was more of a small loft than an actual apartment—but it was that which strengthened our drive to have it as our own.

But a year on our own brought in problems. Lynette tried to get a job, but didn't have the necessary skills. She couldn't even work at the Red Spot, but that was her own fault because she said it was 'beneath her' apparently, it didn't matter that we were barely making enough to get groceries, let alone pay rent. Our financials depended entirely on me and selling my photographs. I was a photographer, and that brings in surprisingly less than one would expect; especially for someone who hadn't made a name for herself in the business yet.

Once we lost our apartment and our attempt at independent lives in Hollywood, we moved back in with our parents, only until we were able to get back on our feet. I, unlike my sister, had to actually work to make money. Lynette was so beautiful, she would probably be able to get her hooks into a rich man and make him her husband. Her tummy was flat, while mine wasn't; her ass was small and tight, not like mine; and she had a chest as big as all outdoors. I suggested she use her beauty and work at Vesuvius, but she refused to strip for money. So, I could respect her for that.

I smelled the smoke, but I was lost in my maze of dreams. I dreamt that I was with my love, my dearest Maximilian; my precious night owl. We sat in a beautiful meadow, shrouded in darkness. The fact that it was so dark made me remember that it was just a dream, he could _only_ come out at night. I knew why he went out only at night, and he promised to always protect me if I protected his secret. He wasn't thrilled in the least that I knew what he was, and he grew very somber when I promised to keep it a secret.

"I promise," He said to me after I found out his secret. "That if you keep my secret, I'll guard you with my life." And I agreed. It wasn't like he had to do anything different than he already was; we were madly in love with each other and he was already protecting me with his life. I was almost twenty two—and when I turned twenty seven, he said he would change me so I could be with him.

But suddenly, the field erupted in bright orange flames. They crackled and jumped into the sky as Maximilian pulled me into a protective embrace. Despite the fact that vampires were more vulnerable to fire than humans, Maximilian didn't seem afraid. He seemed more interested in keeping me safe than he was about keeping himself safe.

"_Oh god! Violet!" _I could hear him shouting through my dreams. _"Wake up Violet! For god's sake! Wake up!" _I sprang foreword; it wasn't his constant yelling that had woken me, however, it was the overpowering smell of black smoke that was sifting its way through my house.

I jumped out of bed and, without being entirely conscious that I'd done it, I grabbed my stuffed rabbit off the shelves and locked it in my arms. The flames had created a barrier between the door and me; but I was overtaken by the bravery which could only be brought on by extreme fear. I'd managed to leap through the guard flames with very little damage to myself. I patted the flames off my nightgown and ran for the door.

In my room, the flames had already outlined the upper and lower parts of the walls, and had just begun to spark onto the sheeted canopy of my bed. I watched my other stuffed animals, my books, and my precious camera be swallowed into the stomach pit of the jumping and excited flames. That place, it was no longer my bedroom. My rabbit doll was the only thing of my room I had left.

The right thing to do at that point would have been to run off. I could have bust a window open and tumbled out safely onto the snow that littered the ground; but I didn't. I ran for my parents' room. Fear gripped itself like a vise around my center, twisting it in every possible direction until I felt I would heave all over the flames.

My parents room had already been consumed entirely, I could see my father attempt to smother the flames with a sheet; and my mother try to press herself to the ground as low as possible so she wouldn't suffocate in the smoke—despite how many flames there were on the floor.

"Run Violet!" My mother screeched. Hearing my name made my father's attention shoot to me like a bullet.

"Save yourself Violet! Get out!" Tears streaming from my eyes, I did as I was told. I ran out into the hallway and threw myself through the window. My body propelled through the snow like a missile, with pieces of rather large glass as my only companions. I skidded a few feet; landing on my side. Unable to wake my senses right away, I laid there with my fist wrapped tightly around my rabbit and my nightgown pulled nearly over my underwear, I watched as the beautiful house burst into flames—and then collapsed.

When I woke, Maximilian was sitting beside the bed I was laying in. The concern swimming in his big, brown eyes broke my heart; and made me want to cry. I tried to sit up, but he nudged me back down on the bed. After looking at my surroundings, I saw I was in his house. My heart rate had slowed considerably, almost as if I'd woken from a good sleep.

"Thank god," He said. I liked the way his black hair fell in front of his eyes, it made me smile internally. He had such nice hair, and beautiful eyes. He was unnaturally beautiful, but that was partly because he was a vampire. "Listen, Violet sweetie, what happened?"

"My parents…" I mumbled. My throat was sore from the smoke I'd inhaled. It was enough to hurt my throat—but not enough to kill me. "…are…gone."

"What else happened, Violet?" He asked.

"Lynette…she died too…" I answered. "There was fire everywhere…everyone died…the house is gone—"He hushed me by touching my face with his ice block hands. I felt like crying, but I didn't.

"Listen, I know what happened to your family." He said. "Did you see any men? Possibly ones that looked like animals?" I shook my head.

"Why?" I asked. He bit his lower lip and brushed my hair with his frosted hand.

"I caught news of a Sabbat raid at your house, but I didn't get there until it was too late. I'm so sorry Violet; I should have acted quicker—" He said. I placed my hand over his, feeling the dramatic temperature change.

"Max, calm down, it wasn't your fault." I said, "Tell me what a 'Sabbat' is, please?" He sighed and nodded.

"Sabbat—they're a clan of vampire that gave into the beast inside us all. They have absolutely no humanity and show no mercy for anyone. They go out of their way to betray the masquerade, and they were the ones who burnt down your house and killed your family." He said. "Again, I might have been able to fend them off if I'd acted sooner. I'm so sorry Violet."

My silence made him unhappy, but I was trying to process everything he'd told me. It was difficult for a mortal such as myself to understand the vampire world, and I suspected he knew that. He stayed at my side, until the pain from the shattered glass and the cuts created from skidding across the ground finally caught up with me. I was surprised at how delayed the reaction was, but when it finally came; He came towards me like a bullet, trying to think of a way to help.

"I'm going to help you, but don't hate me after this." He said. I'd never heard such a great amount of pain in his voice. It was like the fear of me hating him was a tight grip around his throat, strangling him until nothing was left. I nodded.

"I promise," I said. Despite my promise, I could see he was still unsure about helping me in his chosen method. I could almost see a thousand attempts to find another way, but none seemed to work for him. All he did was lean over me and sink his teeth into my neck. The reaction was delayed, but when I felt my blood being pulled out of me through my neck; I let out a loud, painful scream.

He took his mouth away from my neck within a matter of seconds, his lips a bright and smooth crimson. Quickly, he got up and went into his kitchen. I felt myself sinking into the depths of darkness, positive that I was going to die. I closed my eyes, nearly welcoming death, until I felt droplets of bitter liquid drip into my mouth. I opened my eyes, and saw Max holding a slit wrist over my mouth.

"Drink," He said to me in a low whisper. "Drink and live, forever." I, at first, denied his internal liquid. But the choice of being with Max forever was much more promising than letting myself die. I took his wrist and put it to my lips, doing exactly what he told me to do. After he took his wrist back he said "Now, sleep. Go to sleep Violet, and enjoy it."

I shut my eyes just as I'd been told to do, and within a few moments I was asleep. The events of the night fabricated nightmares in front of my eyes; but when I woke, it was already two nights after when I went to sleep. I felt so much better than I did when I went to sleep. The wounds from the glass had healed, along with the burns from the fire. My throat felt like new, and it seemed as if I'd never been hurt in the first place. Max smiled when he saw I was alive.

My first year of being a vampire was spent with Max. He taught me everything I would need to know, and my first lesson was what clan I was. I was a Tremere, just as he was. I didn't know what that meant, exactly, he just said that I'd probably have a hard time with the Camarilla, should their paths and mine cross at any point.

During my first year, we left L.A. for Max's secluded cabin in the woods; but he wouldn't tell me why right away. It was among some of the things I learned that year. I learned about the disciplines that I, as a Tremere, had the ability to use. He taught me Dominate and Thaumaturgy, and told me that Auspex came naturally to every vampire. He just taught me how to turn it on and off. He taught me how to feed without draining a person dry, and what would happen if I lost my humanity.

But towards the end of that first year, Max became very distant from me. There was something on his mind, but I couldn't figure out what it was. He usually told me everything, but whatever was on his mind stayed on his mind alone. I felt as though he'd decided that he didn't love me anymore, mostly because he'd never once asked me to have sex with him. But I never let the thought of him not loving me anymore sit on my mind's palate for too long.

At the very end of the first year, he came to me while I was reading in his cabin's living room. The evening was so relaxing that I decided to stay in from hunting. I wasn't thirsty and it was raining outside; a cozy night in with my lover and my book seemed like the perfect way to spend an evening.

"Violet, come on." He said. I looked up from my book as he put a coat over his shoulders. "We need to go somewhere."

"Where?" I asked.

"Back to L.A." He said. I felt a sharp pain of insecurity when he said L.A. Especially because he said that if we went back, the Camarilla would kill us both because he'd sired without permission. When he looked at me and saw I wasn't even moving, he grabbed my coat off the rack and tossed it to me. "Come on. Let's go." I nodded and did as he said. As I was walking out the door, he gave me my stuffed rabbit. "You'll want this," I nodded and took it, becoming more and more worried about what was happening.

We climbed into his car and he said nothing about why we were going to L.A, the only thing he said were numbers as he counted a large number of bills.

"Why are we going back to L.A? You said we couldn't—" But when he shot eye daggers at me, I retracted my question and sat looking out the door, holding my stuffed rabbit. I was scared, but I also trusted him unconditionally, perhaps, blindly.

He drove for hours; I was almost worried that the sun would come up while we were out. I'd been asleep against the door for an hour when the car jostled to a stop. I opened my eyes and saw that, outside my door, was a giant skyscraper with a blue light over the front door. I gave the building a questioning look before I looked over at Max, who held an envelope to me.

"Listen Violet, this is _really_ important." I nodded. "When you get in there, go to the security guard and tell him you're here to see Mr. Sebastian LaCroix. If he won't let you in, tell him to call Mr. LaCroix and tell him to ask if he's expecting anyone with your last name. When you see Mr. LaCroix, give him that envelope. Got it?" I nodded. "Repeat that."

"Sebastian LaCroix, give the guard my last name, give LaCroix the envelope." I repeated. Max nodded and, just as I got out, gave me a kiss on my mouth. The severity in his kiss made me wonder what was going to happen; but, as much as I wanted to ask him what was going on, I did as I was told.

He didn't let me leave without my rabbit, something that made the fright tighten itself around my throat once again. I wrapped the rabbit in my arms and started towards the tower; but, when I got to the door, Max and his car sped away. With my mind exploding with lighting thoughts, I ran from the door after his car until I reached the street light on the corner. By then, his car was so far ahead of me that there was no point in chasing after it. I looked between where his car had gone, and the tower; and decided that the best thing to do would be to see the assistance of Mr. Sebastian LaCroix.

Despite my very good advice, I still stood beside the lamp post with my rabbit and the envelope in hand. I hoped that Max would turn around, but the longer I seemed to wait; the less likely it was that he was coming back. I was knocked over by a wave of sadness, causing me to sink to the ground and cry. I was lucky that it wasn't raining, or else the envelope and its contents would have been soaked.

At last, I decided to follow my own very good advice, and go into the tower. I dried my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket and hid my rabbit inside one of the giant inner pockets. The last thing I needed was for someone to look at me like a lost child with her dolly, despite the fact that it would have probably helped.

I went in and saw a very…thick…security guard sitting at the desk. Taking in a tight breath, I went to him and asked to see Sebastian LaCroix.

"I'm sorry miss; I don't think he's expecting you. He never gave me any description." He said. I knew what to do in the situation, but that didn't stop the pin-needle of surprise from pinching my heart.

"Could you call him, please?" I asked. "Give him the name 'Young'." The security guard looked me over for a moment before smiling wide.

"Alrighty miss. You look like you've been having a rough night. I'll cut you some slack." He said. I didn't realize I looked that bad.

"Do I really?" I asked. I really was having a bad night, and I was grateful for the kindness the guard showed—but I didn't know I looked bad. He nodded and while dialing Mr. LaCroix's number, He handed me a clean-licked spoon to look at myself with. It was stupid, Vampires had no reflection. So I just pretended to try and fix something while I waited.

He gave LaCroix my name, and then he hung up. It was a very fast conversation, they couldn't have said more than a few words to each other before the phone went back to the receiver and he looked at me.

"Alright miss." The guard said. "Mr. LaCroix says you can go on up. Listen, you need somethin' you just ask for officer Chunk." I nodded and thanked him for his kindness. I went to the elevator and waited until it opened up. I went into a very beautiful, French rococo styled pent house. The man in the suit stood from his desk and motioned for me to come foreword.

"Miss. Violet Young, am I correct?" He asked. I nodded and nearly threw the envelope at him. He opened it up and took out a piece of white parchment. I couldn't tell what it said, but after he read it, he looked inside the envelope, and then back at me. "I've arranged for a haven in the Skylines apartments for you. Apartment four," I was surprised I hadn't been put to death. I had also decided not to question my good fortune. He put his hand in his pocket and tossed me a card key. I caught it rather smoothly. "I'll contact you when I—"

"Max said that if you ever found out about me, I'd die." I said. Once again, I don't follow my own advice. "But I'm not dead."

"Yes, and you should be counting your blessings; fledgling." He snapped. "I'm feeling rather charitable this evening. That's why your head isn't rolling on the floor, and Maximilian was able to abandon you the way he did."

"Alright," I said, and he dismissed me from his office.

**

* * *

**

The other chapters probably won't be this long. Btw. This is for the Sebastian LaCroix challenge and because school is starting and I seem to do better when I have a project to work on. For some reason.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_1. Chapter One_

During the ten years that passed since that night, I'd done my best to keep Prince LaCroix happy. He'd spared my life, and I knew that it wasn't something he always did with fledglings like me. As much of a jerk as he was, and as much as he bossed me around during my ten years working for him, I owed him my life. Keeping him happy was the least I could do.

He was late for our meeting, but that wasn't so odd. He'd left a note on his desk, saying that the Primogen annual meeting might run long and he might be a little late. So I stood idly by, waiting for his meeting to end. Sheriff was watching me as if I was going to do something wrong, but saying nothing to me. I smiled and gave him a little wave.

"Hey big buddy," I said. He huffed in response. "I hear ya." I put the tips of my fingers on the gold top of the desk and brushed them against it as I made my way around to the desk chair. I'd always wondered how it felt to sit on LaCroix's chair; he never let anyone but himself sit there. Even Sheriff wasn't allowed to sit there, and he'd been with the LaCroix foundation longer than I had.

I pulled the chair out and slid myself onto it. Almost instantly, I realized why Sebastian liked it so much. There was an odd sense of power sitting in the boss's chair. Well, that, and it was pretty comfortable.

Smiling, I put my combat boots up on the desk and leaned back. I had a general idea of the cushy part of the leader job, and I liked it. No wonder LaCroix was so keen on being head of the Camarilla and the LaCroix foundation. I looked up at Sheriff, who was glaring at me darkly as if he were silently ordering me to get out of the chair. I wanted to make a joke at his not-speaking thing, but he could easily kick my ass.

"Are you quite comfortable?" Sebastian asked. My eyes popped open and saw him standing in front of the desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was giving me that 'or else' face, signaling that I should get out of his chair.

"You want me…out of the chair…don't you?" I asked. He had a sarcastic smile on his face when he nodded. Despite the smile, I was a little afraid of what he'd have Sheriff do to me if I didn't get out of the chair. I stood and moved from his chair, him quickly taking my place. I was kind of agitated; I liked the soft seat on the chair. But it was replaced by Sebastian's ass.

I moved in front of his desk and put my hands in the pockets of my leather trench coat. I tried to convey the image of someone who hadn't been kicked out of their bosses chair, by the boss, and who probably wasn't being laughed at internally by the seven foot lackey standing like one of those British royal guards.

"Do I really need to review the office rules with you?" He asked. I shook my hair, taking only a few seconds to push back some hair out of my face and repocket my hand. "Good, on to business." He continued. "It has come to my attention that a Ghoul over by Club Confession has been attracting a disturbing amount of attention towards the existence of Kindred. Her name is Patty and I need you to go and make her… 'Disappear', is that clear?"

"Go to club confession, find Patty, and eliminate her." I recited. I raised my two Brokk 17c pistols into view as the prince nodded.

"But I _don't _want a massacre." He said. He took out some forms and doing some office-kind of work. I couldn't be able to say what it was; office work never really interested me. He mumbled as he did so. "It's hard enough upholding the masquerade without having to cover up one of your infamous bloodbaths from the local media." When he looked up and saw I was still there, he gave me a questioning look. "Is there a reason you're still here?"

Quickly, I realized I was supposed to have left. I shook my head quickly and left his office, feeling very foolish about staying in there when he wanted me to leave. But he could have given me the order to leave; I didn't know if that was the whole order so that's why I stayed to see if it was. He should really learn to, at the very least, let me know that he had no other additions to the mission he gave me by telling me to go.

Pushing back my agitation with the prince, I made my way through Downtown L.A to Venus's Club Confession where the ghoul, Patty, was supposedly talking about the kindred in a dangerously loud tone. As much as it would have been fun to push my black sunglasses back onto the bridge of my nose and pull out my guns in a dramatic manner to take care of the loudmouth ghoul—Sebastian had ordered against it, which meant that I couldn't.

Besides, it would just end up a big mess. The police would show up, I'd have to hide in the sewers, and it would just be a lot more of a problem than maybe tricking her into going into a back ally and draining her dry. That would be an easy and effective way to deal with the loud mouth. I kept that in mind as I searched for the almost hidden entrance to Club Confession. A club I visited as often as I could.

The club was filled with its usual mist of red lighting, and gothic costumers of all ages dancing on the cross on the floor, enjoying the time they were having at Venus's club. The best part was that with my pale skin, dark sunglasses, big trench coat, clunky black combat boots, fingerless gloves with the spiked studs on the knuckles, and leather body suit—I hardly stuck out at all. I managed to keep my guns hidden though.

I surveyed my surroundings, trying to spot someone talking about kindred. I spotted the club owner, Venus, serving drinks at the bar. She was a likeable woman and I could have been friends with her; had the situation between us been different. I refused to make friends with kine; it was a type of friendship that was sick with imminent pain. Kine don't last forever like vampires, and their imminent death was painful for immortals who were stupid enough to get close to them. That was one of the only reasons Venus and I weren't friends.

The throbbing beat of the music made my unbeating heart pulsate, as if it was beating again. I was at a loss, I didn't know who Patty was or if she was even at Club Confession that night. I decided that, instead of trying to stand next to everyone to hear if they were talking about vampires, besides, the odds of hearing them correctly was very low and there wasn't room for any major fuck-ups. There had to be a simpler way of doing the job I was assigned.

"Hey! Hey!" Said a voice from behind me. It was so grainy and annoying that I almost defied LaCroix's orders and shot it until it was a bloody mess on the floor. It sounded as though it belonged to a complete airhead, and killing an airhead was a reward in of itself. Even if it did get me in trouble with Sebastian. I turned around and saw a girl in a black leather jacket with red stripes going from the collar to the wrists of the sleeves; and with brown hair reaching to her shoulders. "You look like a vampire; can you help me find someone?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said. I had a pretty good idea that it was the ghoul I was looking for, considering she knew about vampires. The ease of my mission made me edgy; something had to go wrong if things were starting out this good. That was just my philosophy in life, if things are going good they're bound to go bad soon.

"Sure you do! I _know_ you're a vampire. Can you help me find my master? His name is Kent Alan Ryan and he's a Toreador. He dresses so suave and sophisticated; and has really refined tastes." She said. I couldn't stop myself from thinking _if his tastes are so refined, why are __you __his ghoul?_ But I didn't say it aloud. "…and he's really high up on the vampire social ladder. Do you know where I can find him?"

LaCroix's words echoed in my head. _I don't want a massacre_, which meant I could either lie to her and say Kent went to San Diego, or telling her that he's in the abandoned hospital, the one with Pisha in it. I thought of the options I had without a massacre, but then I realize that killing one person in secret was hardly thought of as a massacre! Smiling, I said,

"I think I saw some guy in the back ally, drunk as an ass, swearing at a puddle." She smiled very widely.

"That sounds _exactly_ like him!" She said. "I'll go see if it is!" and she left. I swept behind her, making sure she didn't know I was following her. I already had her death in mind, I would drain her dry. If I used my guns like I wanted; it would be heard and the cops would come running. Sebastian really would be very angry with me if he found out I shot the girl without a silencer. It probably would piss him off knowing that I drained her dry, but I was thinking that I'd tell him I stopped by the local back ally and took a drink from a bum before I went in. As embarrassing as it was, if LaCroix was happy; everyone but the Anarchs tended to be happy as well.

Patty went to a back ally a couple of blocks away and stood in front of a truck. A muscular man in a green muscle shirt was smoking a cigarette and blowing the puffs of smoke out his nose. I crept along in the shadows until I accidentally let Patty see me. She gasped rather loudly.

"W-What are you doing here?" She asked. Her voice was shaky, afraid. I jerked her head to the side by her hair and sunk my teeth in. The rush of crimson treats slid down my throat like liquid fire. It ignited my hunger, setting my monstrous desires aflame. I was burning alive with what I was, brutally reminded of my fate. When she went limp against my arm, I dropped her body and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

When I turned around, I saw the muscle shirt man starring at me in horror. When he saw I was looking at him, he turned his tail and ran down the street, screaming.

"Son of a bitch," I mumbled to myself before taking after him. This was turning into a horribly bad problem. If he told authorities, LaCroix would surely find out I disobeyed him and god-knows what would happen to me then. That is, if the police didn't call vampire hunters to kill me first. I couldn't decide which fate would be better.

I followed him almost halfway down the street before I was bombarded by cop cars. Men in blue uniforms jumped out of their cruisers by the twos and held thirty-eights to me.

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted. I ran while they fired at me, ordering me to give myself up. A bullet found its way into my arm, making me cry out in pain. A bullet to the arm was hardly anything to be worried about for a vampire. At least it wasn't in my head—that would have been a very big problem.

I slid under a sewer cover and fell down the short medal ladder leading to the top. My feet hit the ground with a hard slam, and I felt my knees buckle for a few seconds. I crouched down and inched my way towards the far end of the tunnel, and keeping an eye out for mortal law enforcement before jumping down into the ankle deep sewer water and standing up straight.

After some time of standing in front of the sewer map trying to find the right course to Ventrue Tower from where I was, I took my hand off where I got shot. Despite popular belief, vampires do still bleed after they're dead. My hand was soaked in blood, and the bullet felt like my muscles and my nerves were tangled up in a knot that one usually gets in their hair if they don't brush it for a few days. I put my hand back on and went searching for the right way out.

Surprisingly, I got very much lost in the maze of swimming rats and shin deep sewer water. I sloshed my way through until I found the correct exit, giving me a moment of happiness. I climbed up the ladder, and realized that the police had given up hunting me. I made my way back into Ventrue Tower under the shadows; not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth by standing around like a sitting duck.

Chunk's eyes grew wide when he saw my bullet wound.

"Ouch, that looks like it hurts there." He said. Chunk hadn't gotten much older since last I saw him, except his hair was starting to disappear a little more. It was hard to notice someone's changes when you saw them every night since you met them.

"Can you get the elevator for me, please?" I asked. He nodded and summoned the elevator. I thanked him and went to the elevator. I tried to give myself as much posture as I could, trying to look as if the gunshot hadn't bothered me at all. But the twisting pain was too much and I had to crumple back over a little.

When LaCroix saw my condition, he gave me a very nasty look.

"I thought I asked you not to massacre anyone." He snapped.

"I didn't think—" I started, but he interrupted.

"No, you didn't." He snapped again. "You didn't think. You're just lucky you got out when you did, or else you could have caused the kindred of this city some very irritating problems with the law." He was only mildly angry with me; I'd been in worse trouble before. Especially when I was first handed some guns and told not to make any stupid mistakes. Well, most of my mistakes back then _were_ stupid. "Did you, at least, take care of the ghoul?"

"She won't be saying anything about vampires ever again." I said. "Or about anything else for that matter." Even if I did get caught feeding and chased into the sewers by the police—at least I killed Patty. Despite the little bit of the beast it woke in me, it wasn't enough to cause a problem. I would make up for it later.

"That's good." He said. "At least you did _something_ right." That hurt my feelings a little. He belittled me every chance he got, and that was mostly when I did stupid things during missions. I knew I wasn't perfect, but he didn't need to make it sound like I couldn't do anything right. I was good, better than most vampires only ten years out of life. But, I said nothing. "Now, about that bullet in your arm."

"Hospital?" I asked. I hoped to god that was the answer, but a part of me knew it wasn't. Kindred weren't allowed to go to hospitals, especially because they could take a blood sample and find our vampire chemicals. I knew what was going to happen, because it had happened to me before.

"Sheriff, would you?" LaCroix asked. I almost cried when I visioned Sheriff pulling the bullet out of my arm, like I did every time. His hands were so much bigger than my arm; it usually made the wound a lot worse. I wished I could have gone to a hospital instead.

Sheriff came to me and waited for me to take my jacket off. Sighing, I pulled my arm carefully out of the sleeve and tossed the jacket onto one of Sebastian's red leather sofa's, preparing myself for what was to come. Sheriff grabbed my arm and dug his giant fingers into the wound, searching around with his nail to find the bullet. I wailed and screamed loud enough to wake the dead, screaming,

"SON OF A BITCH!!" Over and over again until the bullet was a tiny pellet on the ground and my arm was bleeding worse than ever. Tears streamed down my face, embarrassing me. Sheriff wiped his fingers off on his jacket and went to take his place by LaCroix's desk. Sebastian stood up and handed me a roll of gauds to wrap my wounds in.

"It'll heal in a very short time, minor compared to what _could_ have happened." He said. That was his idea of comfort, I wiped the tears from my eyes with the sleeve of my body suit and wrapped the gauds around my arm, tearing it with my teeth and sticking it together with some office tape Sebastian provided. "This should teach you not to be so careless in the future."

I didn't like calling him cruel, but sometimes I thought that he enjoyed watching me suffer after I made a pretty big fuck-up. LaCroix, by far, wasn't nice; but I didn't want to go as far as to call him cruel. I slid my jacket on and tried to put on a face that didn't hint at my inner pain.

"Feed, it'll make it heal faster." He said. I nodded and left his penthouse, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. I refused to ever cry in public; it made me stronger if I held in all my emotions best I could.

Chunk wished me a good rest of the night as I left the tower, and I wished him the same. My next objective for the night was to find a quality mortal to feed from and heal my wound.

**

* * *

**

Yes, I know that the patty thing is an Anarch quest. I just thought it might be fun to do in this scenario.


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_2. Chapter Two_

I walked into my haven and saw Heather Poe in the kitchen writing in a notebook. For the last two years, Heather had been my best friend and Ghoul. Just as I owed LaCroix my life, she owed me her's. I gave her my blood when I saw her half-dead in the Santa Monica Medical Clinic, and no one was even trying to help her. I helped her, and she'd been living with me ever since.

"Hey Chickadee," She said after she noticed I'd come home. She started calling me Chickadee after we watched Memoires of a Geisha; I hadn't bothered to think of something to call her. I went to the sofa and sat down and put my feet up on the coffee table. "Did Boss man keep you busy?"

"Unfortunately," I said. Heather knew everything about me, even the fact that I worked for LaCroix and that we both were vampires. I made her swear to take my secret to her grave, and if she didn't I'd kill her without delay. Two years later and I'm still that weird pale girl living in Apartment 4 with her friend. "It's all basically the same stuff. I had to kill some Sabbat assholes for him in that creepy parking garage, which I enjoyed."

"Just don't go do something stupid and get yourself killed," She warned. I laughed.

"I won't…" I promised. "…On purpose." I got up from my seat and went to the counter, trying to figure out what she was writing. "What are you doing?"

"My college home work, you told me not to drop out." She said. She pushed some run-away red hair behind her ear to keep it out of her eyes.

"That's right, I did." I said definitely.

"Oh hey, that gallery you sent your pictures to called." Heather said after she had time to remember. "They said that you're work is very good but they weren't sure they were able to do justice to it." I'd almost forgotten that I'd sent some of my pictures to a gallery in Hollywood; I was disappointed to hear they weren't accepted. I had a good feeling about those ones.

"That's just a pathetic attempt to spare my feelings." I said. "Too bad they didn't want them." Heather gave me a sympathetic look, something that I hated.

"Don't feel too bad about it, your pictures were great. I have half a mind to call them back and give them a piece of my mind." She said. I gave her a corner smile.

"Thanks but no thanks Heather." I said. "The only way I can think of to sway them is to tell them that I'm a big bad vampire and will steal them away under cover of darkness. You know? Scare the shit out of them." Heather laughed at my joke. Some people would call it making fun of your own kind; I called it using mortal stereotypes to make a joke.

"Yeah, and then you'd have Mr. Big bad vampire prince on your ass." She said. "That, in itself, is a reason to keep my mouth shut." And we both laughed. I liked that Heather could be told anything and she would keep it between us. It was nice having a mortal to talk to, besides my fellow damned. It must have been how Max felt when I found out his secret.

Max. Only a few months after he abandoned me in front of Ventrue Tower I managed to convince myself that he'd abandoned me because he didn't love me anymore. After that I'd kept my mind only on my work, and built up a wall around my heart. I wasn't going to let myself get hurt anymore, not by anyone.

"So…no more work tonight?" Heather asked. I shook my head.

"Not tonight." I said.

"Well, do you want to watch a movie?" She asked. "I mean, unless you've got errands to run." I nodded. "Great! How about Beauty and the Beast? I know you're a sucker for classic Disney." I nodded again and got up to go upstairs and get my movie.

Apartment 4 in the Skyline Apartments had two bedrooms. LaCroix didn't know that at the time when he gave it to me, but it turned out to be for the best. I had a room to sleep in during the day, and Heather had one for the night. I didn't know if it was OK for a vampire to have a Ghoul, or if LaCroix would force me to kill her if he knew. So, I said nothing and kept her as my friend; instead of my blood doll.

I hunted out the DVD in my room. I'd been watching it a few days before on my computer; but couldn't find it. I was able to hunt Sabbat and do the Prince's bidding, but when it came to keeping track of movies I received a failing grade. I took the movie down stairs and popped it into the DVD player. Just as I took my seat on the couch, she came downstairs in her blue baggy pajamas with the yellow stars on them and went to the fridge to grab a packet of wild cherry Capri Sun.

As much as I would have liked to have a drink of Capri sun, I knew it would make me sick. Vampires were only allowed blood; and I was alright with that. As nice as it would have been to have something in the fridge that could be mistaken for Heather's, I was happy with my blood packs that we kept in the freezer should I need them. While she was getting her drink, she stuck a straw into one of the blood packs and gave it to me when she sat down. I thanked her and pushed play.

Heather assisted me in keeping my humanity. Her kindness towards me had been a welcome change to the usual kind of contact I had. Constant orders given to me by LaCroix, Sheriff's hypnotically frightening hot pink eyes glaring at me when we went to break up Sabbat raids together—it all started to make me a little depressed after a while. It was nice to have a sunny bit of disposition around to make me feel better when things got to me. She was a good friend, and I admired that. It's not too often one meets a friendly face in the world of vampires, at least, not without an ulterior motive.

After two o' clock, when Heather went into her room to go to sleep for the night, I laid down on the silvery sheets in my bedroom; I had my arms wrapped around my stuffed bunny, which still smelled like the smoke of the past.

My black light above my bed shined down onto my pillows, making my silvery sheets seem more metallic than they really were. I didn't have the black light on often, but I liked the quiet mood it gave my bedroom. It was nice to have a place to lay down and relax in the middle of the night, right before you drift off into a sleep that would last all day.

**

* * *

**

It's not as long as I would have wanted, but, you know. I tried to make it longer, but nothing seemed to fit right. Sorry that it might be kind of boring.


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_3. Chapter Three_

I had an email waiting for me on my desktop computer after Heather and I had just returned from visiting Mercurio at his apartment, I had to enquire him about some clips for my guns, and about what kind of new weaponry his disgruntled police contact had given him. Heather just wanted to stop by the blood bank and pick me up some blood packs; apparently I'd been running low. I bought the clips I was looking for, and Heather seemed pleased with the deal she'd gotten from the ghoul working at the blood bank. He was surprisingly, and suspiciously, friendly to her.

We got home and I replaced my empty clips with my new ones, being very proud of myself.

"It's a good thing I decided to buy some clips," I told Heather as she made herself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch to have as her dinner. Neither one of us were very good cooks and it was only ok for me because blood was all I could have anyway. I felt bad though, I wanted to be able to do _something_ for Heather, she was such a good friend to me that I was worried that it wasn't being reciprocated. "It would have really sucked to be in the middle of a fight and—oops—no bullets. I'm not Malkavian, so I can't make myself disappear."

"Yeah, but the upside is that you've got that powerful blood strike thing, and you're not insane." She said. "Well…not _clinically_." I rolled my eyes and put my guns softly down on the coffee table. The last thing I needed was for one to go off accidentally and cause a riot from my fellow apartment dwellers. Again.

"I'm going upstairs for a minute," I said. "I want to grab a book." She didn't respond; she'd started eating her cereal before I even decided I wanted to read. I walked up stairs and, while searching for my Emily Dickenson poetry book, I noticed that I had an unread email. I sat down on my computer chair and checked it.

_(Subject:) A job_

_(From:) LaCroix_

_I have a job waiting for you. Please come to Ventrue Tower, time permitting. There is a degree of immediacy attached to my request, so please come as soon as you're available. Do not waist my time. –SL_

I rolled my eyes and changed into my work clothes. I had been wearing my 'I have no work tonight, yippee!' black skirt, black Marilyn Manson t-shirt, torn fishnet panty hoes, and my boots. But thanks to LaCroix, I had to change into my leather bodysuit, spiky knuckled gloves, and trench coat. My boots were the only things that stayed constant.

Heather looked at me when I came back downstairs, and a look of minor sadness crossed her face.

"Work?" She asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, LaCroix e-mailed me and said he had a job he wanted me to do. I'm heading over now to see what it is. With any luck it won't take forever." I said. I grabbed my guns from off the table and stuck them into the holsters I had around my thighs. "See you later, Heather." And I was gone.

All the way to Ventrue Tower, I wondered what the job could be. I assumed it was something like my usual kind of work, fighting off Sabbat or punishing masquerade breakers. All I knew for sure about my job was that Sebastian was going to belittle me if I make even one tiny mistake. I hated that, and wondered how long it would take before I couldn't take it anymore and told that baby-face prince off. It was sure tempting.

He was sitting at his desk, as usual. He seemed to be working on business papers, as usual, and Sheriff stood beside his desk, as usual. Everything was as usual in the LaCroix penthouse office. I was a little jealous, I wanted to be having an average night with my average ghoul friend and not doing work for the prince. But, what choice did I have?

"It's good you finally arrived," He said. He sounded mildly annoyed, as if I'd taken my sweet time getting there. I swallowed my need to slam my fists on the table and say that I got there as soon as I could, but I didn't. I just maintained my poise and kept up my natural façade. "About the job I have lined up for you, there is a warehouse—just outside the downtown area—being used by the Sabbat. I need you to go to Santa Monica and meet with Mercurio about an item known as Astrolite, and use that to blow up the warehouse."

"Oh my god," I said. He looked at me with a questioning look. "You couldn't have told me an _hour_ ago when I was in Santa Monica?" He starred at me in silence for a little bit. If I could make an estimate, I'd say about a minute and a half of silent starring.

"The car is waiting." He said. I nodded and left. He went back to his paperwork as if I'd never been there, and I went to see Mercurio for the second time that night.

The driver of the cab sat inside his yellow transport vehicle as he always did, with his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.

"Where to?" He asked me.

"Santa Monica, again," I said as I climbed into the back seat. He began his drive almost immediately after the backdoor shut, and I sat there for almost an hour watching the cars around the yellow cab go by. Several old models but numerous newer ones. None older than maybe late eighties, but I couldn't say for sure. Cars weren't really my thing.

We reached Santa Monica, I told the cab driver to put my fare on the Prince's tab, just as usual. I walked through the dark and seedy back allies to Main Street, where Mercurio's apartment was in sight. I went across the street and noticed pools of blood leading from the sidewalk to the inside of the building. I pushed the door open and followed the trail of blood to apartment Four, Mercurio's apartment.

I opened his door and saw him sprawled out on his sofa, bleeding from nearly every pore in his body, and generally looking like he'd been through hell very recently.

"Is it really _that_ possible to get so beat up after two and a half hours?" I asked him. My question caused him to lift his head pitifully and look at me. I smiled at him, and he did his best to smile back at me. But it looked like a painful facial expression for him to make.

"Well, what do you know? Didn't I _just_ see you?" He asked. "Well, you have no control over when LaCroix wants you to do shit. He called me a little after you left, said he wanted you to pick up, and plant some, astrolite. Unfortunately I don't have any."

"Does it happen to have anything to do with your hellish appearance?" I asked. He nodded as best he could.

"I tried to buy some off a guy at this beach house in town, asshole ripped me off and had his guys beat the hell out of me." He said. After that he noticed one of his injuries and started to freak out. "Is that…? Oh god! Is that my rib? My rip is freakin' poking out of place!"

"Do you want me to go get the astrolite?" I asked.

"My money too." He added. I nodded and as I was leaving, I heard him add, "Give em hell!"

It wasn't the first time I'd gone to the beach in Santa Monica; in fact, it was one of the key places I liked to visit when I had the chance. I went into the parking garage and descended the almost hidden flight of stairs to a stone-and-brick tunnel. It sloped and turned to the right, opening up to the beach. I saw the group of thin bloods, circled around a campfire and listening to what sounded like Rob Zombie. I approached them and without trying, was given their full attention.

"Through that chain link fence and up those stairs." She said. "But don't go. I see a man in a tuxedo—and a box. A box filled with fire—oh god! Oh god! Don't open it! Don't open the box!" She mumbled. She seemed to be freaking about. "I—I see blond hair…dark center…greedy eyes." I tried to decipher what she was saying, but she wouldn't say anything more after that. "Never mind, forget what I said." And insisted that I do what I wanted. I nodded and went to the chain link fence, trying to figure out what she meant by what she'd been saying.

I climbed the fire-escape like stairs with my guns close. I didn't have them drawn in case I would be able to persuade them into letting me into the house without any trouble, but if I needed to intimidate—then they were there for that. I saw a strong looking shirtless guy standing outside a paint peeling picket fence with his arms crossed.

Very carefully, I approached the man. He gave me a funny look, as if he were ready to try and kick my ass. Despite what my nerves were saying, I didn't overreact and shoot him immediately, I liked my skin enough to not want to get shot again. God forbid it be Sheriff who had to take the bullet out.

"Can I help you?" He asked. He sounded like he was halfway between cautious and angry. I smiled as politely as I could, given the circumstances, and did my best to talk my way past the guard and into the house.

"Yeah, I need some…stuff." I said. "I heard I can get some here." The guy thought about it, but didn't believe me.

"You a cop?" he asked. I shook my head.

"If I was, I think I would have been fired by now. Or arrested, depends on the situation." I said. I felt it was a nice touch to add that I would have been fired or arrested, and when he allowed me to go through; I saw that it was a good thing to say.

The house looked even more run down inside than it did outside. Wallpaper was peeling, couches had rips in the cushions, and mortals in brown hooded jackets stood around talking and watching television. A pair of hooded mortals were even playing cards in the kitchen.

I went into the back room and saw two guys standing around some chemicals. I spotted the Astrolite on an uneven table behind a guy who looked to be the leader. He looked tough, but not too tough for my beautiful guns to take care of. He was a mortal, anyway, and they were easier to take down with a gun than vampires and definitely easier to kill with a gun than werewolves.

"Well, look at that. I love this business! I don't even need to call for women to come knockin' at my door." He said. "What can _I_ do for _you_?"

"I'm looking for certain…products." I said. "Astrolite?" He raised his eyebrow at me, looking either amused or surprised—I couldn't quite tell.

"Really now?" He asked. "I just find that kind of odd, because that's not usually a popular item—but you're not the first to come looking for it. I have to wonder…why?"

"Coincidence," I said, placing the palm of my hands on the outside of my trench coat, feeling the pistols underneath.

"I don't believe in coincidences." He said. "Why do you need it?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." I said. It didn't sound that threatening to me, but before I knew it he'd pulled a gun on me and was threatening to kill me if I didn't leave. Naturally, I did what any Tremere would do in my situation; I used blood strike on the other guy in the room and drank the blood of the leader. When he was dead I grabbed the Astrolite. I busted a window open and dove out through that. I figured that running out into a building full of people shooting guns at me with a bomb in my hands wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Despite my attempt to avoid gunfire, I ended up being shot at anyway. I fired back with one of my pistols, my other arm holding the bomb safely out of the line of fire. I wasn't in the mood to be blown up that night, I just wasn't. I kicked a picket fence out of the way and crawled on my stomach between the gab. Bullets flew over head and at my sides as I made a mad dash for the beach, jumping from the fire-escape like stairs and landing in the water with a mighty splash.

I got to shore and checked the bomb, it seemed to be OK. As nervous as I was about it being ruined by the ocean water, I didn't linger on the beach long. I ran from the beach and to Main Street where I assumed I'd be safe. At least there, if they fired their guns at me, the police would be on my side and save me. Hopefully, anyway.

Mercurio was waiting for me in the exact place where I'd left him. Blood was pooling around him on his green sofa, and dripping onto the little puddle growing on the couch's side. I felt bad for him, and wanted to help him. He saw me walk into his apartment, and he smiled at me.

"I see you got the Astrolite." He said. I nodded.

"But I dove into the ocean with it, is it ok?" I asked. He had me hand him the Astrolite and he looked it over. He put it on the ground and nodded.

"Seems fine, no major damage." He said. "Should still make a pretty big-ass boom." I was glad about that. I didn't want to get on LaCroix's bad side because I wasn't able to talk my way into getting the explosives. More importantly, I didn't want Mercurio to get on LaCroix's bad side for not getting the explosives himself. But, since all was still well, neither one of us had to worry about Sebastian ever knowing about what happened. "Now, you'll want to be on the other side of the world when that thing goes off or else you'll burn up like a match in a camp fire."

"OK, now, where's the warehouse?"

**

* * *

**

I thought that would be a good place to end it. Agree?


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_4. Chapter Four_

I learned where the warehouse was, and had found a ticket there. My cab driver was able to take me to a spot a mile or two away, where he hopefully wouldn't be seen. He would come back when he saw the explosion. Mercurio gave me a bag to hide the Astrolite in until I armed it in the building in the center of the warehouse; apparently I'd know it when I saw it. I held my pistols in my hands like two doves; not light enough for them to fly away, but not tight enough to kill them.

You know, if doves fired bullets.

I had to maneuver my way into the warehouse, but getting there turned out to be the easy part. I crouched as low as I could to get through the pipe that led into the outskirts of the warehouse, which resulted in a vicious ache all down my spine. It made me wonder, do vampires get back problems?

I crawled out of the pipe, careful not to gash my head against the jagged opening, and stood up to examine my surroundings. There was some sort of slope, maybe the leftovers from a demolished building; leading up to what I assumed was once a bathroom, if the toilet was any indication. The door was within easy reach, but I remained cautious nonetheless - I didn't want to do anything stupid that would set the bomb off prematurely or harm it in any way.

I spotted a man, evidently working at the warehouse, stood at a urinal with his back facing me; I glanced down at my pistols, deciding to opt for a more stealthy approach instead. Crouching as low as I could, I took a knife out from my belt and snuck up behind him before grabbing him by the shoulders. He barely had time to cry out before I pulled the blade across his throat, and watched as crimson splattered against the bathroom tiles. I _did_ feel a little bad about killing him, but he made his choice when he sided with the shovel-headed Sabbat. Using the back of the guy's shirt to wipe my knife clean, I stuck it in my pocket before moving on.

He was the only guy in the first building; hell this was turning out to be almost too easy. Still, I periodically checked the bomb - I had already cheated fate by getting it wet, I didn't want anything else to happen to it. I glanced around the grimy walls, rotted to the bare foundation; it made me wonder, how old was the warehouse? I tried not to dwell on it too much; if I was going to do this job well enough to finally get some praise from Sebastian, I had to keep my mind focused.

"If I could get him to praise me _just once..._" I muttered lowly, my voice so quiet it was inaudible to anyone but myself, "A simple 'thank you, Violet', or 'good job, Violet', is that so much to ask for? Maybe then I'd question my loyalties less; I might even do a better job..."

I continued to grumble even as I reached my first locked door, and subsequently pulled out my lock pick. The door swung open not a moment later, revealing a world of boxcars, light posts, and a giant warehouse center building, although nowhere near as big as the Ventrue Tower. To the left of the door, a bum stood by a flaming oil barrel, struggling to gain the warmth that his ratty brown coat and threadbare gloves couldn't provide.

"What the fuck is this shit?" I heard a voice say not too far off. Ignoring the bum, I moved into the shadows, pulling my guns out as I crept slowly around a boxcar. I could see two men talking to each other and smoking; I didn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation, just swiftly came into sight and began to fire at them with my guns. They shouted in surprise; one of the guys got close enough to slice my arm open with his knife, and the other gave me a good smack on the head with a baseball bat. I shot them both in between the eyes, and left them to die where they were.

I had the next target in sight. I knew that letting me pass without any trouble was so far out of the question that considering it would be grounds for being called stupid. Instead, I snuck up behind him and shot him once in his spinal cord; it was enough to bring him down. I hated leaving him there to maybe live through it and be paralyzed for the rest of his life; not something I wanted on my eternally damned conscience. With that in mind, I pressed the gun to his skull and pulled the trigger.

With that dealt with, I climbed the metal ladder beside the train and crouched so I wouldn't hit my head on the support beams shooting from one end of the roof to the other. It was useless, of course, because I managed to hit my head twice and stumble over my own feet. I was glad that no one was around to see my clumsiness; it would no doubt have taken away from my intimidating appearance and the mystery of my clan.

With my fingers securely fastened in the long slits on the round door/hole thing. I pushed it open, and it gave a nervous _creeeeeaaaaaakkkk _that made me pull my fingers back as if it'd been on fire. When no bullets came at me, I crawled out and made sure to keep my head low as I could while shutting the round thing. As low as I could, I crawled on my stomach until I had no choice but to drop down from my safe place.

The very second I did, I was bombarded by bullets. I got hit by nearly all of them, up until I ran behind the door of the office and shut the door. I used it as a shield from the bullets, but I couldn't do much about the thugs inside without pulling out my guns and fighting back. I shot them as well as I could, given the number of bullet shells knotting themselves within my muscles, veins, and nerves. It hurt like hell, but I managed to kill one with my guns and slash the other ones throat. My ears continued to ring with the constant sounds of bullets until very long after all the fighting had died down.

When the ringing stopped at last, I went into the office in the back, and went to plant the explosive under the desk. The desk had a shotgun sitting on the desk, plus an old-style looking telephone, I didn't know if it worked but was tempted like hell to try it. I refrained though, it wasn't that important.

As I knelt down to plant the explosive, I noticed that the desk had an open drawer. At first I'd thought nothing of it, but a flash of metal caught my attention. Inside the drawer was a sterling silver charm bracelet with several tiny black turtle attachments. Most of which made up the chain of the bracelet, although three were slightly larger than the rest.

It was Lynette's charm bracelet.

I would know it anywhere. Father bought it for her when we all vacationed by the sea when I was six and she was ten. She'd been dying to buy it all vacation, and was overjoyed when father bought it for her as a surprise. The only thing on the charm that stuck out from the turtles was the half-heart that had 'friend' engraved on it. I grabbed it from the drawer, stuck it in my pocket and went back to arming the bomb. I _knew_ belonged to Lynette, but I had no time to sit and look at it now.

The bomb's timer told me I had three minutes to get my ass out of there before I, too, would end up a smoking pile of ash. This was a persuasive argument, so I ran out as fast as I could. The shooting resumed as I fled down the flight of stairs, but I managed to get away without too much damage. Luckily most of the bullets missed - although that's not saying that I didn't get hurt.

A Sabbat exploded through the door, claws held high and saliva seeping from the corner of his mouth. I shot him as best I could while I was running, but he only got hit in the shoulder. Angry at my retaliation attempt, he followed me to the back of the building and through a metal door.

I could only hear the sounds letting me know that he was still following me. I fired my guns at him wildly, missing almost every time. Nervous and exasperated, I ran up a flight of stairs and dove onto a railcar sitting on some railroad tracks. I slid between that railcar and another one and ran for my life. I had no idea how much longer I had, but I assumed it wasn't past the three minute mark, considering the fact that I wasn't dead.

Just as I got out of the railcar area, the place exploded. I wrapped my arms over the top of my head and knelt down, waiting for the imminent fiery death that was sure to consume me. When nothing happened, I lifted my head and looked between my arms; I saw the warehouse in flames and droplets of ash rain fall from the sky. Releasing a built up sigh, I pulled the bracelet from my pocket and looked at it.

With the tip of my index finger nail, I outlined the 'friend' engraving on the charm. The metal was cold and hardly melted at all. I couldn't account for the reason, but it hardly mattered at that moment. The only thing I could do was stare at the cold metal charm, remembering happier times before I became the Prince's 'bitch' as the anarchs would say.

"That's a very pretty bracelet," A voice said.

I jolted my head to the upper right and saw a man standing in front of me, observing me through the round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. Once glance at his orange eyes told me all I needed to know: _vampire_.

"I take it this fireworks display was your doing?" He continued; he had a sophisticated slur to his voice, something that made me assume that he was a very refined man. I would have pegged him for a Toreador, had it not been for those unnatural, slit-pupil eyes, the mark of a Gangrel. Quickly, I rose to my feet and stuffed the bracelet back into my pocket.

"Yeah," I said. "Who are you?" The corner of his mouth rose slightly, indicating to me that he was mildly amused at my ignorance.

"I see that, for once, my reputation does not precede me," He said, "My name is Beckett, I'm an archeologist of sorts."

"Never heard of you," I answered. It sounded better in my head, but out loud ot just came across as rude. Beckett huffed in an almost insulted manner, and I almost apologized, but he continued speaking:

"I was wondering...have you noticed a sort of…odd feeling in the air lately? One of my…_colleagues_, we'll say…has reported a strange feeling. I'm not native to these parts, so I can't tell if it's normal," I shrugged my shoulders, I hadn't noticed much.

"It's a bit difficult to notice the air when you're bombing a Sabbat warehouse," I pointed out. As rude as it seemed, he chuckled lightly.

"I suppose it is," He said, "Well, I should be off. I don't want to be around if any of the Sabbat managed to survive your raid."

I watched in awe as he morphed into a white wolf and dashed away. That was what cemented the idea that he was a Gangrel. They were the only ones able to do that, no matter how much _I_ wanted to.

The cab driver was sitting right where he said he would be, which I thanked him for, before telling him to take me downtown. During the long drive, I pulled out my cell phone and called Mercurio to tell him that everything went well. Sebastian had provided me with an army-style cell phone, one of those nearly indestructible ones. It was pure luck that he happened to pick the color that I liked: dark red.

"Ah man! I felt that shake all the way here! Good job by the way. They'll be plenty of pissed off Sabbat tonight!"

"Are you feeling any better?" I asked.

"More or less. I'll survive; I just got some blood from my master; so I'll probably be better by morning. God willing."

"That's good, let me know if you get better," And we both hung up. I sat in silence, counting my blessings that the only wounds I got were flesh wounds and that Sheriff wouldn't need to pull a bullet out of my arm again. There was absolutely nothing sweeter in the world.

The cab driver let me out, and drove off as soon as I shut the door; the moment he was done, I was smacked upside the head with a baseball bat. I hadn't even realized anything had happened until I opened my eyes, and felt the throbbing in my head. Like someone was drilling at my brain with a jackhammer and playing loud, hard-core rock music at full volume.

Between my breasts was the foot of a Sabbat bastard. He pinned me to the sidewalk with his foot growling at me like an animal. When I tried to get up, he slammed his foot against me harder, laughing at my feeble attempts to free myself.

"Lookie here boys, we got ourselves a Camarilla bitch!" The one standing on me laughed. The two gray Sabbat henchmen at his side laughed with him, acting almost like stereotypical henchmen. I barred my fangs at them, still attempting to get them off me. "It's a fighter too!"

"Wiggle wiggle, Camarilla bitch!" chimed one of the two henchmen.

"What should we do with her?" Said the leader, the two looked at each other before pitching ideas for my torment.

"Let's pull out its tongue, then its eyes, then its _teeth_!"

"I've got a better idea," The leader grinned maliciously, "Hold her up!" The boys grabbed me by the arms and held me up, despite my struggling. While the Sabbat leader reached for the zipper in the back of my uniform, I brought up my boot and gave him a swift kick in the balls. I smirked proudly as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain, but it was short-lived; the henchmen threw me to the ground and kicked me around, soon being joined by their leader.

"Hey!" We all looked at our left, and saw none other than Nines Rodriguez standing beside us, a gun pointed straight at the Sabbat, "Leave her alone."

"Why are you defending it, Rodriguez?" asked the leader. "You're an Anarch, and it's a Camarilla bitch-" They froze, stepping back when they saw his finger tighten on the trigger. The two henchmen scattered at once, leaving only the leader against Nines and myself.

"You're dead Rodriguez!" He hissed lowly, glancing between the two of us, "You too Camarilla Bitch!" And he ran after his henchmen.

"Hey," Nines helped me off the ground, and watched as I brushed the dirt off my jacket, "You look like shit."

"Yes, because every girl _loves_ to hear that," I rolled my eyes. Nines chuckled at me, coaxing a smile onto my face, "Credit is where credit is due; thank you Rodriguez."

"Trouble likes you, doesn't it?" He asked.

"Trouble and I are familiar bedfellows," I replied. I liked how that sounded, very smooth.

"It would be in your best interest to stay out of it, if you want to see the rest of eternity. But then again, with the bastard-prince as your employer, I don't expect you'll follow my advice. See you around, Cami," And he left. I only watched him for a minute or two before I started towards Ventrue Tower, wanting to tell Sebastian that I did the job.

**

* * *

**

Resuscitated by ReaperRain, so if you like it, you know who to thank. Oh! And this fic has a theme song! Not exactly having anything to do with the plot, but it's the song I listen to while writing it mostly. "When I Grow Up" by Garbage if you want to listen to it.

**--EDIT--**

**ReaperRain was so totally awesome and fixed a helluva lotta stuff I messed up on. This new edition of Chapter 4 is thanks to her! She's so awesome and nice! Thank you ReaperRain! You rock! –Hugz— I hope it's OK by her that I put up her edited version.**


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_5. Chapter Five_

A few days after Max had sired me, I asked him about going back to my parents' house. I knew what the consequences would be if the Camarilla happened to be around looking for me, but I didn't care. That part of me that was mourning my family's death was stronger than the part that feared _I _would die.

The guilt was weighing heavily on my heart; maybe it was because I was newly-sired, but I was still plagued by a human conscience. But I said nothing as I sat on our shared bed, gazing up at him as I awaited his decision. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, staring almost completely through my damned soul, as he always had, even before I was damned.

"Alright," Max decided. He must have taken pity on me, having unfairly survived the fire. "I only ask that you be careful. You know about our problem." I nodded. It seemed like a cheap price to pay, caution in exchange for a visit to my destroyed childhood home. "We'll go tonight when the sun sets, okay?" Another nod, slower this time. He sat with me on the bed and put his arm around my shoulders. Slowly, I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

"Thank you, Max," I softly whispered against the shoulder of his shirt. He rubbed my arm with his hand and kissed my hair.

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to be there to protect you," He said. When the cries I'd been swallowing since the nighttime ended came up in an almost volcanic eruption, Max pulled me close to him and comforted me by rubbing my back. He kissed the top of my head softly; "Shh…shh…It's going to be alright, I promise," He lifted my face out of his shirt and made my eyes lock onto his, momentarily and unknowingly wiping away all my inner sadness, "Hey, everything's going to be okay. We should get some sleep; we're leaving first thing tonight." I nodded and lay down on his bed. He laid down beside me, and wrapped his arm around my waist. He brushed his lips over the base of my neck and whispered his good days.

I thought rest would be impossible, but the way Max gently stroked my hair with his fingers was sufficient enough to make me sleep, and sleep I did. He woke me when the sun had completely set; I was immediately ready to set off, until he reminded me that I was still wearing my pajamas.

Once I'd gotten dressed - plain, casual clothes, I didn't care enough to put any effort in - we headed off. The few hours that it took to drive to the mansion were as silent as the grave, and just as stagnant. Even the radio seemed muffled, playing over-done songs from teen pop stars who shouldn't be that famous that young. I pitied those girls; a lot of them would end up alone and with babies. Ironically.

It seemed like days before we reached the base of the hill where the mansion once sat. Even though I knew the house was gone, it still shocked me to see the gap where the tall, white beauty of it used to stand, looming over the valley on its grassy pedestal. Now there was nothing but empty black sky.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max turn to me. I felt him slide his hand on my shoulder and gently rub it.

"You okay?" He asked me. Silently, I nodded. I was as okay as I would ever be, at least, at the foot of my dead home. I could feel Max watching me as I opened the car door, only to quickly pull his door open and shut it quickly behind him. He followed me up the hill, but his footsteps seemed to fade away into the background when I saw the black, torn carcass of my house.

I didn't dare go inside right away. I just stood outside looking at what was left of the exterior. The white shingles along the outside had turned to black, and the once strong roof had a big, burnt hole in it. The roof shingles were gone, and thick support beams that lay under them had been chewed away by the fire.

Max put his hand on my arm as we stood outside. He didn't hurry me through the house so that we could leave. Even though the Camarilla could have been lurking around, waiting for he and I to reappear. I sighed, and pushed my body forward into the burnt-to-cinders interior.

I was able to recognize bits and pieces of my old life here and there, scrambled about the mansion. I ran my fingers through my hair, looking for anything that may have come out unharmed. Or, at least, savable.

Fragments of my past were scattered around; and none of it with the beauty that it once had. I heaved a sigh as I gazed at the pile of ash where my mother's grand piano once stood. I tried to recall the last time she played the piano for us, but nothing came to mind. It had been so long that the tune had blown out of my memory like ash on the midnight wind.

In my father's study, I found his microscope melted into a large lump. The elegant gold spyglass he kept in his desk had been fused to the bottom of the drawer. I ran my fingers over it and tried to salvage it, but I wasn't able to get it out.

Sliding the drawer shut, I left the study and went out into the back yard, where my mother had a vegetable garden growing. I slid outside the kitchen door and walked to the blackened plants in the back yard, shriveled and dried; they were a truly sad sight.

"_I'm going to enter a vegetable contest…" _I recalled my mother saying to me as I helped her garden a few weeks before the fire. _"…and I'm going to win. I know I don't have the greenest thumb, but I think I can handle it." _As it turned out, she wouldn't have a chance.

Turning my heel from the garden and going back into the house, I let my eyes drift over the destroyed kitchen. The place my mother had prided herself in most was gone, another victim of the fire. The once clean and orderly kitchen was in a state of utter chaos, cabinets had their doors almost burned off, and some had the handles melted so far down that they hung in mid air under the cabinet.

I could hear Max brushing his foot over the ash in the living room, waiting for me. I wanted to hurry and get out of there, but I couldn't. It was like I was trapped in there, mesmerized by the damage done by the fire.

Upstairs wasn't any better than downstairs. Max had to come with me and hold onto my arm incase the floor didn't hold. I would have been fine, it wasn't a high fall for a vampire, but he worried anyway. There was a big hole in the floor in the hallway between my parent's room, Lynette's room, and my room with a blackish, reddish charred ring around it. That was where Max mostly held on to me.

My parents' room hurt the most to look at. I couldn't even find their bodies among the ash. It seemed that every piece of jewelry my mother owned, every piece of business paper that my father needed to finish for work, and every photograph from my childhood had been lost in the flames; and nothing remained but its black, dusty carcass.

Their bed, their clothes, everything was gone.

Before the fire, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose nearly everyone and everything I ever knew and cared about; but afterwards, I couldn't remember what it felt like to be so naïve. I wanted to go back to believing in everything.

Max stayed beside me as I stared at my parents' room. He kept a hand on my shoulder as often as he could, obviously not wanting me to feel alone. But his hand, the hand that was my sense of security and warmth—suddenly didn't have any feeling at all. It was as if my body was numb, leaving me unable to feel his sympathy or the real pain that I'd been afraid of ever since the fire. The pain that had prevented me from coming back sooner, the pain had a name, and a face.

It resembled a Sabbat, and its name was guilt.

Without realizing it right away, I turned my back on my parents' room and went down the hall to Lynette's. Her room was the same as my parents'. Everything she cared about was gone, everything. Her bed, clothes, and magazines hadn't survived.

I searched her room for her bracelet, praying to god that it was there and intact. It was her prized possession and I needed to find it, but I wasn't able to. Maybe it had been consumed in the fire, or stolen by looters - if that was the case, I could only hope it was being taken care of.

My room was the last place I looked. Everything was gone, everything was burned.

I searched through the dust to find something I'd hoped was still there. It wasn't among the dirt, and it wasn't in my black jewelry box. My dead heart began to tighten when I realized that it might have been stolen too, but to my relief I found it sitting in the nightstand.

It was a plain silver bracelet with 'Best' engraved in half-a-heart that resembled Lynette's bracelet. Part of the left side was melted and deformed looking. The melted half made 'best' look smeared; as if it was made in ink and someone brushed their thumb over it. Despite its battered appearance, I stuck it in the pocket of my jeans.

The sun would be up in a few hours, so we had to get back to Max's cabin and out of L.A. We had nowhere to hide there, and his cabin was a good distance away. We drove back just as we did going there. In silence, save for the radio's over-played teen pop star songs.

**

* * *

**

Sorry it took me so long! It was kind of hard to do. I don't entirely know why though. It wasn't all that exciting and it's kinda short.

**Once again, This was edited by the worlds best and nicest beta Lady Rain! (my new nickname for her!) again, I hope lady rain doesn't mind that I put her edited version up.**


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_6. Chapter Six_

LaCroix was royally pissed when I entered his penthouse office. He was tapping his fingers with agitation against the smooth surface of his desk, looking much like a teenager having trouble figuring out a geometry question. He had his hand in his hair, glaring at the desk as if he were going to announce a blood hunt on it if it didn't give in to his demands. Honestly, I wouldn't put past him.

"Hey there," I said as I approached his desk; I hoped that maybe telling him that every Sabbat in the warehouse had gone up in flames would make him a little less agitated. He looked up at me, although he didn't seem particularly happy to see me; "You know that warehouse? Well, it's gone."

"It's about time," Sebastian growled at me. I was taken back: he should have been _proud_ of me! Or at _least_ happy with me! "I had a number of important things for you to do this evening but you decide to take your precious time, and now there isn't any for those jobs." He was pissed off alright, but I figured it wasn't aimed at me - probably left over from something more important. When he was angry with me, he had a sort of—controlled anger that usually came out sounding more like sarcasm.

"Who took a piss in your coffee?" I asked. Sebastian gave me a dirty look and clenched his right fist on his desk; subtlely, so as not to be seen, but I noticed it anyway.

"I don't think that's any of your business." He snapped; I tried not to shrink back like a child, but it was difficult. He quickly shooed me from his office and I obeyed without a word. Mostly because it was going to be morning soon, and I needed to seek the safety of my haven before the hellish sun peaked over the skyscrapers to paint the city with venomous light.

I got back to the apartment and saw that Heather was asleep on the couch. Smiling to myself, I went up to my bedroom quietly so that I wouldn't wake her, and got ready for my day sleep. I took my trench coat and my boots off. Slowly, I laid my trench coat down on the bed and dug out the bracelet in the pocket. I held it in my hands, feeling the cold metal turtle charms against my flesh.

With the bracelet in my hand, I went to my nightstand and pulled out a little wooden jewelry box with only one trinket inside. The bracelet I'd found at my family's burned mansion all those years ago. I lifted it up and stared at it, as if I were hypnotized.

Sliding the jagged edges of the charms together, I completed the heart. The engraved halves spelt out 'Best Friends', two words that reminded me of Lynette and I when we were younger, and when she was alive.

Huffing to myself, I put both bracelets in the box and put it back in the nightstand. I went back to my jacket, hung it up in my closet, and set the boots down beside the door. I pulled the gloves off my hands and tossed them on top of the computer desk. Running my fingers through my hair, I went into the bathroom to grab a quick shower before bed. I always slept better when I wasn't soaked in Sabbat blood.

Getting out the shower, I wrapped a towel around my body and tried to dry off as best I could before getting ready for bed. I pulled an oversized black t-shirt over my head, with the words _'Hell Raiser'_ emblazoned on the front, and some baggy black pajama pants, as sponsored by Pepsi Cola. Despite popular belief, not all vampires sleep in coffins and wear sexy lingerie, and don't let Velvet tell you different.

I crawled under my blankets and the minute my head hit my pillows, I was half-way asleep. I was dead tired, and the few short minutes I spent in the dark wrapped in my blankets with my face buried in the pillows were enough to push me over the edge into unconsciousness. It felt like decades since my bed and I had made time to be together, but once we reconciled, we were friends once more. It lulled me to sleep; and kept me there with only mild nightmares that night.

When I woke again, it was past sunset and I could hear the TV on downstairs. It was a faint murmur of the news, telling of the work I'd done only a few hours before. I was amazed at how quickly the flies of the media were able to settle onto the rotting carcass of a story—good or bad or uninteresting, it didn't matter.

I sat up groggily, mechanically forcing myself up out of bed. I could feel my hair standing in a bed head sort of way and settling into my face; it probably looked ridiculous. I went downstairs and saw Heather unsually dressed-up. A cute blue skirt and purple blouse, faux diamond hairclip - she even had some make-up on.

"Why are you so dressed up?" I asked. She obviously didn't know I was down there, because she nearly jumped out of her skin when I spoke. Her head jolted towards me with a shocked expression on her face.

"Oh-! Um…did you sleep well?" She asked. She was fidgeting with the hemline of her skirt, looking as though she was very uncomfortable. I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah…but what's with the outfit? Special occasion?" I asked again; the feeble attempt to change the subject had me suspicious. Her pale face had turned a soft pink color, and she looked uncomfortable about something.

"Well…I…um….I have a date tonight," She finally said. I starred at her in total surprise, I felt my jaw drop and my eyes grow wide. She looked ashamed at my shock.

"With _who_?" I asked. It was a demanding tone, after I thought about it, I must have sounded like LaCroix when he told me to do something and he was mildly agitated. The pink blush on Heather's face deepened as she muttered the name of who she was going on a date with:

"You know that guy who works at the blood bank? Vandal?" She asked in a soft, timid voice. The shock was even greater when I heard who her date was. I would have been happy for her if it was anyone _but_ Vandal; he was creepy and he didn't like me in the slightest. But I put a forced smile on my face regardless.

"I'm happy for you, Heather," I said. She looked relieved to have my approval, even though I didn't know why. I couldn't tell her who she could and couldn't date; if I could, she sure as hell wouldn't have been going out with Vandal that night. But instead I smiled and pretended to be happy about it, "How did this all come about?"

"Well…today I saw that some of the blood packs had gone bad…so I went to get more…and we got to talking and then he asked me out for tonight. We're going to have dinner at the Diner outside the Asylum tonight…is that ok?"

The words 'hell no! you go get your ass to the phone and tell that creepy son of a bitch that you won't go out with him! There are plenty of other cute, sweet, and less creepy guys in L.A! Hell, the _Prince _is a better date than Vandal! And he'd most likely stand you up for an unfilled out form!' came into my head...but I held my tongue and nodded.

"Of course it is, have fun tonight," I said. She smiled happily and gave me a hug.

"I'm so glad you approve! I really like this guy. I know he comes off as a bit creepy and all, but he's really nice," She told me enthusiastically. I just smiled and nodded, choking back my desire to tell her that I didn't approve and that she should cancel her date with Vandal. The important thing to me was that she was happy, despite how bad of an idea I thought it was.

When she left for her date, I was immediately worried. Vandal was really weird; I was scared that he'd try something on her. Something sexual, that would be one thing, but I wouldn't put it past him to try something dangerous on her. Something that made me think of a bloody bear trap.

Shaking the thought out of my head, I went upstairs and got dressed in my uniform. The Prince would, most likely, have something for me to do that night, considering the fact that he told me he had a number of things lined up. A part of me wanted to say that he only said that because he was agitated, but the other part wouldn't put it past him to have something in mind for me. It would be easier on my nervous mind if I went to ask what it was.

The walk from my apartment to the tower seemed to last forever. I didn't remember Ventrue Tower being so far away, but apparently it was. My worry for Heather was weighing down my heels, even more so when I tried to convince myself that she would be fine. I didn't trust Vandal, and I knew how fragile Heather was. Heaving a sigh, I decided to try and not think about it. An exploit that was better said than done.

In the end, I decided to pull out my cell phone and give a good friend a call.

Mercurio answered his phone almost immediately, and by the tone of his voice I could tell that he was feeling better. I stopped by a bus stop bench and sat down, not wanting to walk into the LaCroix building talking to one ghoul about another.

"Yo?" He answered.

"Hey Mercurio, it's Violet. How are you feeling?" I asked. He started laughing after I asked my question, another fact that made me realize that he was feeling loads better.

"I feel great! You know, that blood you guys got is a great thing!" He cheered in a happy tone. A tone that made me smile a little.

"That's good. Listen, um, I know this might sound a bit…odd…but you know Heather Poe, right?" I rushed into what I originally called for. I didn't have time to sit idly by and talk to him about his recovered health. Not when my best friend was on a date with a psychopathic weirdo.

"Yeah I know her, that redhead you were with last night?" He asked. I was glad he remembered; that made me feel a lot less worried. I couldn't figure out why, but for some reason it just did. "Why?"

"She's out on a date in Santa Monica tonight with Vandal - runs the blood bank, you know him? I need you to do some detective work, just to make sure he doesn't hurt her or anything like that. Ok? Just…keep her safe." I hated admitting that I was bothered, but I was. I trusted Vandal as far as I could throw him and—considering the fact that he wouldn't let me near him with a ten-foot pole covered in vampire poison—that wasn't very far.

"You want me to spy on her?" He astonished questioned. He sounded as if he couldn't believe that's what I was asking of him, but he agreed to do it; "That sounds ok, I mean, you were cool enough not to tell LaCroix that I didn't have the Astrolite, I could do this for you." I exhaled a breath I'd been holding while he was thinking. The anxiety seemed to flow out on that breath, and I felt loads better. Not _great_, but better.

"Thanks Mercurio, I owe you,"

"Hey, I take care of those who do me favors, and you did me a huge one!_ I_ owe _you_." I didn't believe him; I still felt I owed him. But in the end, we decided to leave it as being square. "Where are they?"

"The diner outside the Asylum, remember; if he does anything at all to hurt her you let me know A.S.A.P, capiche?"

"I got it, I got it."

"Thank you again, Mercurio," I said. After he said that it was no problem, we both hung up and I continued my anxious walk to Ventrue Tower. Hopefully I'd have work to do in Santa Monica so I could keep an eye on Heather and Vandal along with Mercurio. Not to mention my two friends, Brokk 17c and his similarly pissed off twin brother.

Everything in Ventrue Tower was just as I'd left it. Chunk had buzzed me up to the pent house with very little of a fight, Sheriff was standing at his usual spot beside the desk and LaCroix was sitting at his desk doing paperwork. He seemed to have an unending wave of forms and such to fill out; but I figured it was because he owns his own giant company and that requires a lot of paperwork. Seemed like a logical reason to me.

"Yes? What do you want?" Sebastian asked. He didn't even look up to see if it was me, he just sort of…knew. Weird.

"You said yesterday that you had some jobs for me. What were they?" I inquired. If there was anything, anything in this world that could keep my mind off of my concern for Heather, it would be my job. Unfortunately, Sebastian was shaking his head.

"I had my other agents take care of them. You have no work tonight." He answered briskly. Normally, I'd have been giddy at the idea of no work. I would have gone home, took off my uniform, replaced it with my nightclothes and spent the rest of the night lying around the house like a lazy mortal. But home was the last place I wanted to be.

"Well…do you mind if I hang out here for a while then? I'm kinda lonely." I knew that he would probably say no. I was surprised when he said,

"If you must," and went on ignoring me as if I'd left. I walked away from his desk and sat down on one of his red leather sofas. They were old-styled, but really neat. I liked them.

No one said anything, but that wasn't surprising in Sheriff's case considering he never said anything anyway. LaCroix ignored me while he did some paperwork, and I tried to amuse myself by trying to explain to my worrisome half that Heather was fine. Mercurio was watching her, and he would make sure I knew if something bad was going to happen. But even that didn't stop my fingers from tapping against my leather bodysuit nervously.

"Hey, LaCroix," I said out of the blue. I may have been thinking aloud again, but I didn't realize it. "Have you ever been out on a date?"

"A few times when I was a mortal," He sounded as though he barely cared. I wasn't looking in his direction, so I couldn't tell what his expression was. My eyes were fixed on one of the old portraits beside the door. "Why?"

"Just curious, I mean, you don't seem like the type to leave the office for a date." That may have been a horrible thing to say but, again, thinking aloud. "I'm sorry, I'm thinking out loud."

"That _was _rather bold of you to ask," He agreed. I lowered my eyelids slowly, trying to take my mind off the goings on. "What brought the subject up?"

"Thinking out loud," I repeated, sounding rather tired to my own ears. I turned my head to look at Sheriff. "What about my giant best friend there? How many women do you think he's…felt…?"

"That's a rather crude question," He said flatly, "And even cruder when _you_ say it. I don't know, nor do I care." The image alone of Sheriff cupping a breast made me start to howl in laughter. He wasn't the type one would imagine getting some action; but when you try it, it's a hoot! "What, dare I ask, do you find so amusing?"

"T-T-The image," I managed to say between my hard laughs, "Of h-h-h-him getting—getting—getting—lucky!" I howled, "Fucking hilarious!" I could tell either LaCroix or Sheriff was angry with me for being so open about my laughter. I wasn't able to hold back all my emotions and put on a façade like LaCroix or the rest of my clan. If I found something funny, I laughed. And I found the image of Sheriff putting his…mortal manhood…to work was funny as _hell_!

Slowly, I calmed myself down. I sat up and turned my head to look at Sheriff and LaCroix, realizing that I was being an asshole; "Sorry, I'm being kind of a jerk. I didn't mean it Sheriff, you forgive me, right?" as if he could answer me. He just gave an irritated huff and ignored me. "I knew that you wouldn't be able to hold it against me, buddy."

Just then, my cell phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the caller ID.

Mercurio.

**

* * *

**

This was going to be longer, but I decided it would be cooler if I split it up.

**Once again, edited by the awesome Lady Rain!**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_7. Chapter Seven_

The air caught in my throat when I read the caller's ID. I was like a below-average high schooler caught in an advanced algebra class. I didn't move, I didn't speak, and I could hardly breathe that is, you know, if vampires _could_ breathe. I was only able to clutch the phone in my hand and stare at it dumbly.

"Do you plan to answer that?" LaCroix asked, sounding agitated with me for not answering it right away. I nodded with my eyes locked on the phone, and hesitantly flipped it open. I spoke as softly as I could; I didn't want LaCroix to catch on to what I was talking about.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to sound calm. In reality my nerves were jumping around inside me like live wires. I could just feel the bad news coming, like the calm before a terrible storm.

"You remember how you asked me to call you if something bad happened?" The apprehension in his voice sent an icy shiver through me, paralysing me like a stake to the heart. I numbly bobbed my head up and down, then remembered he couldn't see anything over the phone, so I pushed my voice to come up with a vocal reply.

"Yeah," Was all I could manage.

"Well, I'm in the hospital. I tried to go after her, but he held a gun to her head and said that if I took another step, he'd kill her. This is the kind of thing you wanted me to look out for, right?" I gasped, glancing back at LaCroix who had a funny look on his face. I smiled sheepishly and went back to my conversation with Mercurio.

"Right, I'll be down there as soon as possible. You keep a look out, okay?"

"There's where the problem comes in. He's got her in the back room. I can't get through." I grimaced. I _really_ hated that Vandal, but now it had just become personal.

"Okay, I'll be there soon," And I ended the call. I whipped around to LaCroix and gave him a faux smile.

"I've got some business to attend to," I said, mimicing his old-style way of talking. "I'll take my leave," And, without his consent, I was out the door and in the elevator, tapping my foot against the floor with irritation.

* * *

It seemed like the cab ride took an eternity. The never ending road finally _did_ come to an end in Santa Monica's second street, outside the Asylum. I nearly tore the door off its hinges trying to get out so that I could have time to save Heather.

"Send the bill to LaCroix," I said quickly, slamming the door shut behind me and stumbling out into the streets, probably looking like a staggering drunk. I headed off at full speed towards the back ally that led out into Main Street—the Santa Monica short cut.

As it often did in Santa Monica, it began to rain. It was odd how the rain would just start out of no where in that silly little part of L.A, but it was only a mild annoyance. It caused my hair to stick to my face, but that was about it. I was able to keep it out of my face pretty well, but I won't go without saying that I didn't get a few raindrops in my eyes every now and then.

I ended up going the wrong way in my haste, so I had to go around to the Blood Bank door from the front street, only a mild annoyance. I had a horrible image in my head of Vandal bleeding Heather dry just because she was associated with me. Her corpse lying on the floor, soaking in her own blood with Vandal standing over her, grinning like the madman he was.

Furiously, I shook my head as I ran. I hated the image, and tried not to dwell on it; I refused to let my thoughts linger on the worst-case scenario. Heather was my best friend, and I would sooner greet the sunrise than let anything bad happen to her.

I burst through the Blood Bank outer door and emerged in the medical clinic's stairwell. I nearly fell down the bottom flight of stairs in my haste, feeling the front of my right foot catch against the back of my left leg. Luckily I managed to grab the railing in time to catch myself before I tumbled clumsily down the stairs. Regaining my poise, I continued my descent.

Mercurio was waiting for me outside the door, holding a gun in his hand. I stopped, waiting for him to tell me anything and everything he knew about what was going on. As it turned out, he didn't know much.

"He's got Heather here," He said, "Somewhere in the back room I think. I can't get back there." I nodded and left him standing there, being my back-up in the unlikely even that I would need some.

Exploding through the Blood Bank inner door, I stomped up to the window, where that stupid son of a bitch Vandal stood with a smile on his face.

"Need a fix?" He hissed, though not with anger. I slammed my hand against the wall right beside the door.

"No damn it, where is Heather?" I shouted, hearing my own angry tone echoing off the walls of the blood bank under the clinic. Vandal didn't shake; he didn't shrink back from intimidation. Instead, he just stood there with that same 'I'm better than you' expression on his face, looking down his nose at me.

"I don't know," He said, "She left about an hour ago. She's probably back at her apartment downtown." I slammed my fist against the wall again, feeling the building shake under my fist.

"Tell me where she is _right now_, or else I'll tear your throat apart with my bare hands and feed you your own jugular," I growled. I was all too ready to give into that beast welling up inside me that I had worked for ten years to keep dormant, I was ready to feel the giant blade of Sheriff's sword against my throat for it too—the thought of losing my best friend was more than I could stand. My threats did nothing to him, or at least his expression, he kept that same smirk on his face.

"I can't very well tell you something I don't know," He said smoothly. Growling like an animal, I stormed away from the front window and decided to do the rescue my own way. I knelt down in front of the door and picked the lock. It, at first, seemed to not want to open to me—but I overpowered it. The door unlocked, and I pushed my way through.

In a secret room that I'd found through several minutes of poking my way around and hacking the blood bank's computers, Heather sat in a chair with her arms bound to the arms of the chair by leather straps, and a needle in her arm; draining her blood. It was everywhere; splattered against the walls, swirling down the drain in the floor, painting the entire room crimson.

I ignored the smell of blood, and went to help my friend. She looked up at me, her face paler than I'd ever seen it, and her usually clear green eyes empty. They lit up like a fire, though, when she saw me pulling the straps on the chair until they were loose enough for her to easily slide her wrists right out.

"Violet! Oh god, help me!" She begged as I loosened the straps. I nodded and freed her wrists completely in only a matter of minutes. I pulled the needle out of her arm as carefully as I could, trying to minimize the amount of pain she was already feeling. She fell into my arms, sobbing into my shoulder. I put my arms around her and tried to calm her down; at the moment, I wasn't sure what else I could do.

Mercurio came in, but stayed back at my request. I didn't want anyone else around Heather right then, I needed to calm her down by myself. Having someone help me would only make me further believe that I couldn't take care of her.

"How _sweet_," Hissed a voice from the furthest door. We all looked towards it, and saw Vandal standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a dark grin on his face—the dark grin I'd always imagined he'd have on his face when he discovered my weakness. "The monster has a heart after all."

I took my arms away from Heather and stood up, pulling my guns out in the process. Vandal stood his ground, looking as though he didn't think I would kill him. He was wrong, and he would pay for what he did to Heather with his life. I punched him in the gut before he could realize I even moved, and watched him fall to the ground. I slammed my shoe down on his chest, smashing it down like I was squishing a bug, and holding my gun so that the bullet would hit him square between the eyes.

"Violet!" Heather screamed, "_Please_! Don't kill him!" I could hardly believe what I was hearing from her. Judging by the look on Mercurio's face, he could believe it as much as I could. That man, if a man is what you would call him, had imprisoned her and taken out a lot of her blood. He'd tortured her—and she wanted me to keep him alive?

"Why not?" I snarled, sounding angrier than I meant to. I wasn't angry at Heather, I was angry at her request to keep him alive; "This…this…thing nearly killed you! And you want me to keep him _alive_? What if he comes after you again?"

"Please…just…don't…" She begged, crumpled over and sobbing into her hands. I looked between her and Vandal, trying to decide on what I should do. I wanted to kill him for hurting my friend, but I also didn't want to appear a murderer in Heather's eyes. I'd spared her that horror for two years; I didn't want to start right then. The angry beast I'd felt earlier had been calmed, and I knew what decision to make.

I lifted Vandal up by his collar, my fingers wrapped tightly in the fabric of his shirt, and gave him the ultimatum:

"If you ever, _ever_, hurt Heather again, I won't hesitate in killing you," I threw him back to the ground, "From this moment, your every breath is a _gift_ from _me_."

For the first time since I met him, Vandal was truly scared. He collected himself and ran out of the room, leaving me and Mercurio to calm down Heather. I turned my back to the door and went back to soothe Heather; she fell into my arms, sobbing.

"I'm sorry…so…so sorry…" She cried against my shoulder, choking on her own sobs. I rubbed her back softly, trying to calm her.

"Shh…calm down," I cooed. I held her in front of me by her shoulders, so I could look right into her green eyes: "Demons like Vandal can charm you with a grin for a moment, but nothings going to hurt you, not while I'm around." My promise only made her cry harder, but I enveloped her into my arms again. I gave her a tight hug, reminding her that I would never let anything happen to her. Mercurio stayed in the background, allowing me and my friend to have that moment.

Later that night, I learned that Heather had been dating Vandal for almost two months, and their dates had been on nights when I had work to do. She didn't need to say it, but I could see it in her eyes—she had been in love with him. Despite that, she promised to never see him again, a promise I knew she would keep after the events of that night.

**

* * *

**

Sorry it took so long! I entered a short-story contest and I had two weeks to write amazing fiction for it—and it was hard! Lady Rain knows, she gave me some advice! I finished it, and turned it in. I won't get the results until November 30

**th****, but when I get them, I'll be sure to tell you all how it turned out.**

**Violet's promise is actually some lyrics in "Not While I'm around" from Sweeney Todd, and her "A gift from me" Line was from Tomb Raider: Legend. :D Just so you know!**

**Edited by Lady Rain.**


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_8. Chapter Eight_

Heather was downstairs doing her college work as she usually did, clicking her pen repeatedly when she found a question that required some intense thought. I gave her a smile and put my guns down on the coffee table like I usually did; nothing out of the ordinary. Outside work, my life was surprisingly dull for a vampire.

"Homework?" I guessed, receiving a nod from her in reply. She didn't look up at me when she nodded; all she did was keep her gaze down on her paper. She was half-listening to me, but that was OK. I had nothing of value to say.

"Vampire work?" She replied with a smile, and I said yes. I had finished with another assignment LaCroix had given me, and once again I received no praise. It must have been too much to ask, at least, to him.

"You know it. You know? I think I'm going to go take a shower. I've got miscreant blood under my nails and it's bugging the hell out of me." She nodded as I walked towards the stairs, holding my nails up so I could look at the dried blood under them. I had fairly long fingernails so blood got trapped under them easily. It bothered me, but I didn't want to cut them.

Clasping my hand around the handle of the door, I gave it a soft push inward and it moved without protest. I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand still clasped around the handle as though someone had put glue on it without telling me.

Max was sitting on my bed, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes of his.

I stayed in that paralyzed state for what seemed like eternities, never able to move. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I was trapped.

He looked the same as he did all those years ago when he abandoned me. His hair was still perfect, his face was still flawlessly pale, and his eyes were still filled with regret and sorrow. He had an apologetic smile painted across his face, looking like the innocent little puppy vampire I'd fallen so madly in love with, and who had hurt me so badly.

"Hey," He whispered, sounding unsure of his words. I blinked twice, that being the only thing my body would allow me to do. "It's been a while, you look good."

Slowly, my body began to relax. A strange, new emotion grabbed a hold of me and pulled me out into the sea that I'd managed to numb myself to since he abandoned me. It was a mixture of recognizable love, unexpected alarm, and the blackest of hate. I couldn't decide how I felt about him being back in my life after so many years; cautious was the only word that came to mind.

"You look the same," I replied, voice emotionless. I wanted to run to him, throw my arms around his neck and hug him until I could believe that he was really there. I wanted to slap him and cuss him out for leaving me all those years ago, and I wanted to cry and ask him why he'd come back all of a sudden, and why he left me to begin with. Each desire I had, I did my best to leave unfulfilled. I remained neutral, trying to let go of the threads of emotion I still had in my heart.

"What have you been up to all—?"

"Why are you here?" I interrupted; wasting time catching up was one of the few things I wanted to do after being reunited with him again. What I _wanted_ to do, however, was still under debate.

"Violet…" He sighed, "I understand that you're mad. I know; I would be mad too if I was in your situation. But I had to leave you here—_your_ life would be under debate by the prince, but mine wasn't. I was a coward, and I've regretted leaving you every day of my life. It's been hell; the guilt has been eating me up inside ever since. I _had_ to come back, to know if you were still alive." He was almost pleading with me, begging me to forgive him almost. I moved into the room and shut the door behind me.

I _needed_ to talk with Max; it was a drug I'd been denied for ten years.

"My life was under…debate?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds odd. But…I don't know! I hoped to god that LaCroix would take pity on you for all that's happened and take you in. I knew he would have his sheriff kill me on sight though." I must not have looked convinced, because he sighed and looked down at his shoes; unable to meet my judging eyes. "A blood hunt was called upon me the night before I abandoned you." My eyes grew wide, I felt them do so.

"What…?"

"That's why I had to bring _you_ back to L.A," He continued, "I could barely protect myself during the blood hunt! I wasn't going to put _you_ in any danger because of it. You've suffered enough for my mistakes; neither of us would have been in that situation if I had just given you some of my blood and sought permission from LaCroix." He put his hands against his face, hiding it from me. "I'm so…so sorry."

Right then, his shoulders began to shake and his breathing was sharp. I knew without even seeing his face that he was crying, truly sorry for what happened. The lingering love I still had for him expanded, and I went to his side.

I wrapped my hands around his and brought them down to his knees. Just as I thought, his face was streaked with tears, but he tried to hide it. I brought my hand to his face and wiped them away, keeping a smile on my face.

"It's alright," I softly said, "I understand, everyone makes mistakes." His eyes were lit ablaze with surprise. Had he truly thought that I'd stopped loving him after all these years? That I wouldn't forgive him for some simple mistakes? I could _never_ do that to him, my first love.

I expected him to smile, to grab my hands and thank me for forgiving him. Instead, He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and slipped me a soft kiss on the mouth. I savored it, having forgotten how it felt for my lips to touch his. So sweet, so secure—I loved every minute of it. I kissed him back.

Before I knew it, he'd lifted me off the ground and had put me against my bed. Towering over me like a skyscraper, I watched as his gaze studied my face. His tears had dried, and his watery eyes had been replaced by those full of hunger; he wanted to take me.

"Are you still a virgin?" He asked, but sounding rather crude. I nodded. His smile widened, foreshadowing what was in his head. Normally, I'd have protested. I didn't give myself away like a common prostitute, and that was why I died a virgin. I felt his hands, which had once been around my waist, explore the zipper on the back of my bodysuit. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upwards.

He peeled off my bodysuit like a second skin, and I felt the leather being pulled off me. When I felt his lips against my collarbone, I opened my eyes.

Instead of Max, it was LaCroix.

But instead of being horribly shocked and confused, I just smiled. I slid my hand into his hair and watched as my boss smiled down at me, showing me his fangs. I showed him mine in return before he went to my stomach, denying me the satisfaction I felt coursing through the veins I thought had died by kissing around my belly button and across my stomach.

It was hard to breathe, but I didn't worry. I labored my breathing as his touch scorched my body, making me remember the difference between hot and cold. I wrapped my left hand around the edge of the pillow, tightly clenching my fist as his temptations went on—obviously teasing me.

"Se…bas…tian…" I breathed, my own voice sounded almost inaudible to even myself; but he seemed to hear it. He brought his lips to my mouth and silenced my pleading efforts, sucking my lip as though he hungered for it. I kissed him back, loving the taste of his tongue against mine.

It was better than blood.

When the tight feeling in my veins became too much, and right before he gave into what I wanted, I opened my eyes.

I sat up and found myself in my bed, in my nightclothes, being rather normal. I brought a hand up and pushed my hair back, fingers fidgeting. I stayed in my bed for a long time, trying to make some sense out of what I'd been dreaming about.

The dream had started out with Max, but ended with LaCroix. Why him? He'd been nothing but nasty to me ever since I came to work for him ten years ago, but my mind wouldn't let it go. I closed my eyes and thought back to the dream, trying to find a place where I could feel security in knowing it was only a dream—nothing more.

I thought about how the dream began, how it had been Max. I longed for him, which was true. But when I recalled seeing LaCroix on top of me, his hair tousled and wrapped around my fingers—I felt pleasure. Against my own will, I kept the image in my head, even as I did my best to push it away; I tucked it away into my subconscious, hoping I would forget about it as the night went on. Looking at my alarm clock, I saw that it was, in fact, night.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I pushed myself up to go downstairs. When I stood on them, they felt like noodles, weak and unstable; I could barely walk. I was still embarrassed, having just had a sex dream about a man I loved, and a man I worked for.

The worst part was, I liked the one about the man I worked for.

**

* * *

**

XD I know it's short, but I didn't want to make it any longer than it needed to be. A sex scene is good, but I have a feeling that if I make it too long it'll be crude.

**Not only that, but this was supposed to be the beginning of something. In a way it is—but not until the next chapter! Ha-ha! I'm super evil!**

**Plus, I felt like doing a mini-sex scene. It's a late birthday present to myselves!**

**Edited by Lady Rain.**


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_9. Chapter Nine_

Despite my vow to push the dream to the back of my mind and do my best to forget it—I couldn't. It was a task easier said than done, especially when LaCroix called me to the tower to discuss a piece of work he had lined up for me during that particular night. Because the fates were conspiring against me, it _had_ to be the night I had the dream.

I took a deep breath as I got ready for work, careful not to think about it. I had managed to convince myself that I shouldn't go a-hunting before bed anymore, that alcohol filled hobo blood too close to bedtime was, for me, the equivalent of a sub sandwich before bed for a mortal. Never a good idea and usually caused bad dreams.

Heather was downstairs reading on the sofa. I did my best not to disturb her, quietly making for the counter to grab my weapons. She must have seen me, because she wished me luck for the night's work. I thanked her and holstered my guns.

"Don't get yourself killed," She warned, never looking up from her book. My eyes swept over the title of the novel, Memoires of a Geisha, interesting choice. Personally, I was glad Heather liked refined books like that, instead of stupid books that have no elegance whatsoever. Jeez, I should have been a Toreador.

"You too," And I left the apartments. At first I was nervous about going to the LaCroix building; I needed more time to convince myself that the dreams would go away. But, in the end, I pushed myself forward and swallowed my anxiety.

Walking to the tower was OK, and for the first time since I woke up, I felt that the dream really would just disappear like I wanted it to. I told myself over and over that it was nothing, and that people have meaningless dreams all the time, and it didn't have any ulterior motives behind it. I was—just—horny. It was nothing, nothing but a bad blood dream. Yeah, that was it. I felt loads better.

The fates hated me. That was simply it. When I arrived in the penthouse to get my assignment, I saw LaCroix sitting behind his desk, as usual. But, just for a moment, the dream came back, and there he was—naked as the day god made him. I felt my face blush for the first time since I became one of the undead, followed by a barely-stifled laugh climbing up my throat. I mean, imagine it—I mean, that same night I'd woken up from a sex dream about that man, I just _happened_ to be called to his office for a job! And—and—when I got there—! Aha-ha! And to top it all off—I imagined him in the same amount of clothes I dreamt him in!

"_What _are you giggling about?" LaCroix asked sharply, annoyance painted in his eyes. I shook my head, swallowing the insane laughter building up. Oh if only he knew—but I was very grateful he didn't.

"Something I heard on television," Lies, but that was okay, the very last thing L.A needed was for its prince to know of the events that occurred only a little while before in my subconscious. I tried to hide my smile—badly—gave him the most professional look I was capable of. Finally the nakedness faded from view, and he was back in his regular dark suit. "What did you need?"

He kept his eyes down at the paper, dejected, hiding his expression from me. When I saw that, the laughter died away almost instantly: the one thing that you learned while working with LaCroix was that when he looked gloomy, you knew something was wrong. He often looked serious or angry, but never sad. And if he did, he did a wonderful job of hiding it.

"W-what…?" I questioned, making sure to keep my voice an audible whisper. I'd never seen LaCroix look that way, and it had caught me off guard.

The surprises just kept coming.

"Sheriff, would you please excuse us a moment?" He never asked sheriff to leave his office in all the years I worked with him. My big buddy was always right beside the desk, watching LaCroix get angry with me or give me a job. Whatever it was, it was serious.

He nodded and left, all without a word. I watched him leave, wondering what in god's name could be going on, when I heard LaCroix speak:

"I'm about to lose the company." My head jerked back to him, shocked. I never imagined that LaCroix would ever lose the foundation, it was _his_ company! It took a few seconds for his statement to sink in; I didn't think he really believed it himself, having had the company for so long—I could never know for how long exactly.

"What? But it's _your_ company. Is it money problems? I never imagined you would have money problems," I rambled on, trying to make sense of the situation and maybe make it lighter for him. As much as I disliked LaCroix, I understood how much the company meant to him. The LaCroix foundation meant the same to him as Max had meant to me all those years ago. It hurt to lose something you loved that much.

"It's not money," He said, "It's another company. They're attempting a hostile takeover of the LaCroix foundation."

"Let me guess," I spoke up, still trying to make the situation less grim, "You want me to go down there and knock some CEO heads?" I slammed my fist into the palm of my other hand to signal my point. He shook his head.

"No, then the successor would try even harder. Don't think I hadn't mulled that idea over." Good ol' LaCroix, always willing to send me to beat someone up for him. "To make matters worse," Oh god, I didn't think it could get worse for him. I pitied him for once. Weird. "We both are trying to get a business contract of a third company—and whoever gets the contract will decide if the LaCroix foundation will live or die."

"Oh I get it," I must have sounded stupid, but I wasn't a business woman, "If the other company gets it—they'll have enough money to take over your company," I was so proud of myself for understanding. "But if you get it, you can buy out the other company and it'll die!"

"Very good," He sounded as though he were praising me on a third-grade problem; I felt my pity die a little.

"But what I don't understand is what you want _me _to do about it." That really was the only thing I didn't know. I wasn't schooled in the ways of the big powerful CEO rats. I was just a simple worker bee like average, every day Joes. "I don't know anything about stealing company contracts or hostile takeovers." Suddenly feeling a ping of brilliance, I pulled my guns out and held them up; "I mean, I know about hostile takeovers—but not the _legal_ kind."

Had it been anyone else in the world, they would have laughed. Or snickered at least—but LaCroix just sat at his desk, looking at me with dark, angry eyes that made me put my guns away. He needed to lighten up a little, despite the graveness of the situation.

"The deciding company—its president is a—" He seemed to choke on the word. I could only imagine what it was, Sabbat?

"—a Sabbat?" I tried to fill in; he shook his head.

"No, a—" The word still seemed lodged in his throat; I almost wanted to give him the Heimlich to make the word come out. I couldn't think of anything worse than a Sabbat. Whatever it was, he was probably overreacting. "—a family man,"

I didn't really know how to respond. I could almost hear his request in my head, but I somehow wasn't expecting it. He hadn't even said anything besides that, and all the pieces began to fit together. Him telling me about his company's problems, asking Sheriff to leave so we could have a private meeting, suddenly it all made sense.

"Y-yeah?" He gave an irritated sigh, proving to me that he really disliked having to ask this sort of thing from me or from anyone. He never usually asked, he ordered. The whole ordeal was painful for him, and not just because he was losing his company. I'm sure he would have preferred that I shot him in the head right then.

"And to have a fighting chance against my rival company, I need to prove to the president of the deciding company that I'm just as interested in that as he is. Which means—" I believed it more then than I did before, he wanted me to kill him. He'd rather be dead than have to ask such a thing of me, and I agreed with him on that. "—that I need you to masquerade as—" The way he refused to use the word was comical, it was so unlike him to need anything from anyone and having to ask for something was painful, Like bathing a temperamental cat with claws. "—my—" It took him a few minutes to cough the word up, like an almond lodged in his windpipe. "—bride."

Like I said before, I knew the request was coming, but I was still surprised when the word finally came out. I didn't know how to react; so I reacted in the only way I knew he understood.

"What's in it for me?" Maybe it would make him feel less like he was asking a favor, and more like he was giving me an assignment as usual. I didn't know for sure, I was just trying to lesson the obviously painful blow on him. It was against my vow to let any harm come to him.

"I'm offering eight hundred dollars," He proposed, "Was that the sort of payment you had in mind?"

"Make it a thousand, and we have a deal." It wasn't much to ask of him, if he had eight hundred dollars to pay me to pretend to be his wife, then he had a thousand to seal the deal. LaCroix was over two hundred years old; he _had_ to have made a lot of money by now.

"Deal," It went down just like a business deal. He proposed a service; we haggled on a price, and sealed the deal. Very professional.

"Deal," I echoed, "OK, what sort of thing do you need me to do?"

"What you women do best," He instructed, "Try and outshine my rival's bride."

It seemed easy enough, and I was getting paid a thousand dollars to do it. There were only two things I didn't know if I could do: Spend my night off in a dress, and pretend to be Sebastian's wife. Both seemed rather painful, but I would find a way to muddle through.

**

* * *

**

This was the idea I wasn't too positive on. I mean—the idea I think is good, but I didn't know if it was considered too fluffed up or not. I went with it, only because it's part of the plot. But idk. I did my best to keep LaCroix in character, and I think it went good. Hope you like it!

**Edited by Lady Rain.**


	11. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_10. Chapter Ten_

Heater was far more excited than I was about the whole mess. Sebastian must have thought I didn't have enough sense to dress formally, because he had to remind me before I left his office. I couldn't have cared less about how I looked, but Heather sure did. So much, in fact, that she forced me to go to Hollywood with her to go dress shopping. It all started out pitifully.

She had set aside time one night to go through my closet to see what I had that I could wear. The dinner wasn't until two nights from then, but she was just so excited that she couldn't wait that long. "Well…these are cute…" You could hear the lie in her voice, I didn't own anything appropriate for fancy dinner parties, what did I need them for?

"You can stop lying now," I told her, sitting on the edge of my bed watching as she went through my things. Personally, I hated when people went through my stuff and when my things were moved, it felt like an invasion of my privacy.

"Well…Violet, this is your first date since I met you; I want you to look extra pretty." That word made my stomach turn, date, it sounded bad, like vinegar on your tongue.

"It's not a date," I insisted, "I'm just helping him hold onto his company. That's all." I saw the corners of her mouth turn upwards and heard her whisper under her breath, although I was sure she didn't mean for me to:

"I'll _bet _he wants you to hold onto his company." Had it been any other man, I would have laughed with her and complemented the joke, but instead I frowned. She looked over her shoulder at me, and then rolled her eyes. "Oh let me have my fun."

"So did you find something yet?" I was desperate to get the attention away from Heather's stupid, albeit funny, joke. She shook her head, discouraged.

"Unfortunately, no," She said, but her unhappy tone changed when an idea came into her head like a bolt of lightning, "Hey! Let's go to Hollywood and _buy_ you something! LaCroix gives you enough money to spend on yourself doesn't he?" I couldn't decide which would be worse: Pretending to be LaCroix's wife, or being subjected to dress shopping with Heather when I could find something in my own closet to wear.

"Yeah but—"

"Then it's settled! Let's go!" She grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the apartments; she apparently wasn't going to waste any time at all. About halfway towards the cab, I decided it was useless to fight her; I wouldn't get my thousand dollars if I didn't outshine the other girl, and I needed less scruffy things to wear.

I spent the whole ride trying to convince myself of this. I did have enough money to spend on myself, and I would only come into more money if LaCroix kept his business. I rationalized until the cab came to a stop in Hollywood and Heather paid the cab fare.

The dress shop we went to was run by a vampire, so it was open, unfortunately for me. Heather and I spent three hours in that god-forsaken store; trying on and rejecting a wide variety of dresses. I swear, if I lived to be a thousand without seeing another dress again it would be too soon.

"Ooh! Try this one!" Heather ordered for the umpteenth time, sounding similar to a broken record. My mind was numb, each new feel of fabric and sight of new styles of dresses was like a syringe of chloroform straight into my veins. Poison, pain, and unbearable after Three. Fucking. _Hours_.

She threw at me a dark blue, almost black, strapless gold polka-dot dress. She'd beaten down my spirit before, resistance was futile. I took the dress into the dressing room and tried it on, growing to dislike the way I looked in my underclothes. I couldn't see myself in the mirror, so I had to go with what Heather told me, and what I could see from my point of view.

The dress hugged my torso and flowed down my legs, the bottom of it caressing the floor. It gave my breasts a little extra support, and gave me the curvy look I never knew I would have while hiding most of the flaws my body had. Heather gasped when I went out of the dressing room to show her, she loved it. I, however, was still judging it.

"You look so _pretty_!" She sounded like a child, helping her gaudy friend get ready for what she believed was a date. I didn't really know how to feel about the dress; I'd have liked it better if I could see my own reflection, I think. "That's it! I don't care what you say, you're wearing _that_ one."

"O—kay?" Didn't sound like I had much of a choice to me. I agreed because I was tired, fed up, unhappy, and wanting to kill the son of a bitch who thought it was funny to make women wear dresses. Whoever it was had a sick sense of humor, and that's coming from a vampire!

Just when I thought the torture was coming to an end, Heather decided to spend yet another hour picking out shoes. My boots seemed fine to me, but she wouldn't have it. She had in mind the perfect shoe, one with a heel that's not too big and not too small; and just the right color, despite the fact that no one would ever _see _it, it would be under the long skirt of the dress.

At the end of the long torture, we decided on a pair of 5" stiletto style spike heel shoes with a clear strap over the toes. They were actually really nice shoes, and I liked how simple they were. Nothing flashy or outrageous, just something to put on my feet while I masqueraded as Mrs. LaCroix.

"Anything else?" I questioned as she picked out the box with the shoes in them. She tucked the box neatly under her arm and gave me a smile. A smile that said 'I know what _you_ want me to say, but…' "Oh god, what now?"

"You need some earrings and a necklace." I wanted to cry. To fall down to my knees and weep like a little baby. I was so tired, and I was so sick of that stupid store that I wanted to shoot myself in the head if it meant getting out of the torture. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach, and she gave me an apologetic look. "That's it, I promise."

"It better be,"

Regrettably, finding the right accessories took just as long as the shoes. Nothing seemed right, either too flashy or too simple for the dress. In the end, for the necklace, we decided on an ash colored pearl pendant. The earrings were easier, thank god. A pair of black chandelier earrings where what we ended up with, and it looked good.

Everything we bought turned out to be more expensive than I would have liked to spend on things I didn't really need (or want) but I just reminded myself of the bonus I would be receiving, and that was enough for me to turn over the money to the cashier. It would have been both funny and painful if I'd spent more than I would make.

* * *

The night of the dinner, Heather was still more excited than I was. She helped me get ready before I had to be at Ventrue Tower, mostly against my will. She painted my face like an artist paints a canvas: the right amount of soft, silvery eye shadow on my eyelid; an elegant brush of eyeliner, and the soft painting of peach lipstick.

Before I knew it, Violet Young had been hidden behind an elegant mask, and Mrs. LaCroix had been born. I couldn't see how I looked, and maybe it was for the best; I wanted to have that image of pure elegance in my head until I took my mask off after the torture had ended and it was time for Mrs. Violet LaCroix to die.

She pulled back some of my hair, and braided it until it was a long French braid sitting on a pillow of black locks. I felt taller with the image I had in my head, fragile. I couldn't decide if I liked it or not, but it also didn't matter.

"You better get going," Heather said once her masterpiece had been completed. I stood up, careful to learn to do so with the elegance required. The dress helped though, the smooth middle of the dress helped me stand. "Now, what isn't ladylike?"

"Pulling out guns," I sighed, "Making a sexual comment, and calling the other guy's wife a skanky gold-digging whore," And then I added, "No matter how much she needs to hear it."

"Very good," She praised me. She took one last look at me before I left, admiring her work. "You're so pretty. You'll show the other woman up for sure, and you might even impress your boss."

"I'm doing this for the company," I stated quickly, "Not for him,"

"_Wha—atever_," And she left it at that. I narrowed my eyes sharply and left for the tower, wondering what I would do if someone tried to rob me on the way. Odds are I would take off one of my shoes and beat him over the head with it; seemed like a logical way to go about it. I almost hoped someone did want to rob me; I was in the mood for a good skull knocking.

To my surprise, I didn't even have to walk to the tower. A limo was waiting outside the apartments, and when I came out the driver opened the back seat door for me. I knew it was LaCroix's, but I was getting my mind ready to fight with my shoe like I wanted.

I slid into the back seat as easily as I could, and saw Sebastian's nonchalant 'I don't really want to do this' expression slightly morph into a shocked one. It was so subtle that I almost missed it, but I saw it. He was impressed by how I looked, even though he didn't want me to know it.

"I'm glad you took my advice and found something suitable," He said, making sure to stay on the other side of the limo, away from me. I was fine with that; I wasn't in the mood to be near him either.

"Just something I had lying around," Lie, I spent a lot of money on it and had gotten it two nights before I needed it. But it would be out of the question to mention Heather to him, not until I was sure nothing would happen because of it.

We said nothing more to each other, neither of us in the mood to be doing what we needed to that night. I stared out the window until a thought occurred to me:

"Do they know we're vampires?" He looked towards me for a second, and then shook his head.

"No, I should hope not," He paused, "Why?"

"It's just that, we can't eat food." I should've thought of that sooner, but it'd only just crossed my mind, "Won't they think it's strange that we're not eating?"

"I'll come up with something," He assured, although I wasn't convinced. What could I do besides trust him? This would be a combat zone for the both of us in a way. "Oh, there's something I'm forgetting."

"And that is…?" He dug into his pocket and handed me a small box, inside was what would pass for my wedding ring. A simple gold band with diamonds arranged on the face to look like a lotus flower in full bloom. It was beautiful, a little too beautiful.

"This will be your wedding ring," He said as if I couldn't figure it out for myself. I nodded and smiled towards him. I held my hand out to him.

"Aren't you going to put it on?" He gave me a nasty look, the kind one gets right before getting in trouble. I took back my statement, and put the ring on myself.

Arriving at the Asian restaurant where the dinner was to be held was a little like exiting a tank on the war front. We were on our guards the moment we got there, unsure if our battle plan would work out like we'd planned, or if we would have to improvise our way through what wasn't planned. I was praying that everything would go according to plan.

The rival boss's name was Mr. Hanson, and he was a man who looked like he was in his thirties, and his wife's name was Joy. Joy looked to be about twenty four, maybe, with thick locks of blond hair falling into her large cleavage. The deciding boss, a portly man who reminded me of John Goodman in a way, was Mr. Conan and he was sitting at the head of the table next to a frail middle-aged woman with black hair, Tabitha Conan.

We took our spots at the table on Mr. Conan's right, and sat across from our rival counterparts; Sebastian across from Mr. Hanson, and I across Joy. She seemed preoccupied with looking at her face in the little compact mirror, she immediately gave me the impression of a stuck-up person. I had to swallow my desire to call her the very thing Heather had told me not to.

"Why Sebastian! I never knew your wife was so—cute!" If I could, I was sure I would have blushed. I never thought of myself as cute, just strong. "Where have you been hiding her?"

"She's gotten into a new hobby, and I'm afraid it's hard to tear her away from it," Sebastian was smooth, I would give him that. He had filled in the question as if it were true, as if he knew anything about my life outside of work.

"Really?" Conan questioned with enthusiasm, and then turned his attention to me, "What is that, if I may ask?"

"Photography," That was an easy question for me to answer, because it was true. I gave a soft giggle, "I'm afraid I'm not too good at it though, none of the art galleries I send my pictures to seem interested."

"You simply must show Tabitha and I your photos sometime," He continued, his statement agreed upon by his wife.

"Joy—honey," Hanson piped up, "Why not tell them _your_ hobbies?" It was the most pathetic attempt I ever saw, he was trying to strike back at us, and didn't do a good job.

"I collect purses," A nice way of saying 'I shop'. I gave a subtle notice to Conan, who didn't seem too impressed with Joy's answer. Sebastian and I were ahead, and I could see he was being secretly happy about it.

I'd never equated a dinner party with combat before, but that night made me realize how similar the two really were. Every time we would strike a blow for the LaCroix foundation, they would take a shot for their own company. Sometimes, it worked. When they asked why we weren't eating, Sebastian explained that I had made him a large lunch, which he and I supposedly shared. Conan bought it, which was a total surprise to me.

The battle was no where near over. In fact, the bloodshed had only begun.

"…And our youngest, Mike, came up to me today and said 'daddy, you know what I want to be when I grow up?' and I said, 'what son?' and he said 'like you!' isn't that precious?" No. Not at all. In fact, it made me sick. Conan seemed impressed, but only by the fact that he had a young son that sounded adorable. I was calculating a defense, and the right way to go about it. I wasn't going to say something Sebastian didn't want me to, and I also wasn't going to say something at the wrong time like Mr. Hanson over there.

"That is precious," Conan spoke up, "Don't you think so, Sebastian?" No, he didn't. I didn't need to really be married to him to know he thought it was disgusting and too much like a fifties commercial. Because it was, I almost expected an announcer to speak up and say 'The American Dream!' or something along those lines.

"Very," He lied, and I gave a small, agreeable nod.

"I think it's amazing how you can keep your figure after having three kids," I complemented. It was a lot like stepping in a mine field—I grew more unsure of my words the more they formed. By the end of the whole statement, I felt I may have thrown us under a bus. She gave me a curt smile.

"I was just born lucky," She mused, "I didn't even get big during my pregnancy." She was lying, I could tell. Her breasts were like neon signs saying 'I GOT THE FAT SUCKED OUT AFTERWARDS!!' I smirked. These kinds of girls were _so_ predictable.

"I _bet_," I answered dryly. Sebastian subtly nudged me in the waist but I ignored it. Joy gave me a nasty look.

"Oh? And when are _you_ due?" I knew what that bitch was trying to do, she was calling me fat! I wanted to stand up on the table and scream 'listen here you stupid bitch!' but I didn't. I remained in my seat, swallowing every desire I had to strangle her. But then I thought, _wait, Conan likes a family man…_ and a plan formed in my head. I only hoped it wasn't going out of line.

I put my hand on my stomach and put on the saddest face I could.

This wasn't about the LaCroix foundation anymore; this was a matter of personal pride.

"Oh no…I'm showing _already_?" I tried to sound horrified, so that maybe Mr. Conan and his wife would take pity on me.

"Oh my! I didn't know you two were expecting!" It was all so perfect. The young couple starting their family while trying to hold onto their livelihood—like something out of an airport paperback.

"Our first," I explained, "We only found out a week ago,"

"Well, don't you worry," Conan said with a smile on his face, "Joy was just being cheeky, you look wonderful." That was it; my plan had worked like a charm. By pitying me, Joy had been made to look rude and distasteful in Conan's eyes. I gave a small smile and thanked him for his kindness.

Sebastian gave a subtle and quick pat on my leg, to tell me I did wonderfully without any actual words. Great, the one time he praised me he couldn't actually say it. The fates truly were flipping me the bird.

"You know what I think is funny?" Hanson spoke up, trying to cripple us the way we crippled them. I could see it in his eye, he had a dark plan; "You claim to be pregnant, and yet we haven't seen a sign of affection all night. You'd think that LaCroix was _lying_ to us." I tried to keep my poise, but that man had truly struck a harmful blow.

"We're not fond of public displays of our affection," Sebastian eloquently put. I nodded in agreement, it was the best reply I would think possible. Unfortunately, no one bought it.

"Even if that's true," Hanson continued, "You would at_ least_ hold her hand,"

"Mr. Hanson's got a point Sebastian," Conan agreed, Jesus, did that man just continually switch to the winning side? "A pretty girl like that needs a lot of attention; you never know when another man will come and try to snatch her up!" If we were being truthful, I would _rather_ have any other man. Sebastian was getting uncomfortable, I think he had a general idea of what they wanted him to do—and it was the very thing he was trying to avoid, I think.

I wanted to say something to get us out of the sticky situation, but I couldn't think of anything without being rude. I think that was what Hanson had planned on, because no matter what I thought of to say; it sounded just as disrespectful as what Joy had said not long before.

"Come on," Hanson continued, grabbing my attention, "Give her a kiss," Again, if I could have blushed, my face would have turned redder than the apples on the table. In fact, it would have been able to hide among them without ever being found. Before I could stop being so anxious, Sebastian gave a quick peck on my cheek. So quick, I almost never knew it happened. "Oh come on, _that's_ what you call a kiss?" Hanson was enjoying this, and Sebastian and I hated it.

Remember what I said earlier about shooting him in the head? Well now I was thinking that a murder/suicide would be delightful. I'm sure he wouldn't protest; he might even be grateful for it. Too bad my guns were at home, a lot of good they did me there!

Hanson gave his wife one of those chic flick ending scene kisses, the ones that make single girls wish they had that kind of romance in their lives. As if it was a game, Conan joined in with his wife. Sebastian and I were left sitting in the room, looking quite awkward.

If Sebastian and I didn't join in like a happy couple, they would know we've been lying to them and the LaCroix foundation would be lost for sure. We had a fighting chance, but we would have to swallow our pride and do it. But truthfully, I didn't see Sebastian doing it. I'm sure he'd rather lose the company than—

Catching me quite off guard, Sebastian did as the others. He put his hands on the sides of my neck and pulled me into one of those movie kisses that are so rarely real. I expected it to be vile, distasteful, and something I hated but it turned out to be the opposite. It was…nice. I hardly noticed that the other couples had stopped and were observing. I was too interested in the surprisingly wonderful kiss I was receiving. It had been a long time since I kissed anyone, and I forgot how wonderful it was. But I had to remember that we were just acting, we were just pre…tend…ing

They seemed satisfied with the kiss, and I spent the rest of the dinner trying to forget about the whole thing. I tried to lie to myself, telling myself that it was horrible and I never wanted to do it again—but his taste still lingered. I wrote it off as being lonely and continued on with the façade.

The last event of the evening was a Kabuki play performed in the back of the restaurant. There were only two dancers, an Asian American girl, and an Asian guy; I was surprised to see how hard it was to distinguish them, you'd think they were both girls. They wore beautiful silk kimonos, I almost wanted to ask LaCroix to get me one of those instead of my thousand—but I decided that the thousand was more worth it.

I recognized the song immediately when it started up. They were playing "The Chairman's Waltz" from Memoirs of a Geisha, and the dancers were doing an elegant dance to it with little paper fans and beautiful sweeping movements.

The song was slow and the soft whine of the violins made my eyes heavy. Before I knew it, they were closed and my head was on Sebastian's shoulder.

It didn't seem like too long after that I began to dream. I dreamt of LaCroix holding me against his chest. His arm under my legs, holding me up like the bride I was pretending to be.

"I should probably get her home," He quietly said, and then I heard a few muffled goodbyes. I had the strangest feeling like I was floating, and then had fallen onto a leather ground. I tumbled a little at first, and then was perched on a soft leather bed until I began to levitate again.

When my eyes opened again, I was back in my apartment. I registered the change of scenery as quickly as I could. My main goal was to find out how I got from the restaurant to my apartment. I couldn't remember, so I went up stairs to find Heather and ask her.

I knocked on her door and she answered, looking tired. I caught a glimpse of her alarm clock; it was almost six in the morning! I must have been out for a long time. I smiled at her.

"Hey Heather," I said, I didn't want to be too blunt; but I wanted to know how I got home.

"Hey, Chickadee" she replied, yawning. "I'm going to guess you want to know how you got here?" I nodded, ah, Heather knew me so well. "LaCroix dropped you off on the couch."

The whole world came to a screeching halt. LaCroix had been in my apartment, which meant he might have seen Heather!

"Did he see you?" She nodded.

"Yeah, I was downstairs with a bowl of cereal when he came in," She looked at me, and I must have had a look of worry on my face, because her next question was, "What?"

"Nothing," I said, placing a faux smile on my face that seemed to have made its home there, "I was just wondering. I'm going to go wash this war paint off and go to sleep." She nodded and went back into her room as I went into mine.

I could only hope nothing bad would happen.

**

* * *

**

Wow this one is a biggy!

**I would have cut the chapter in two, but I decided against it. I think it actually went pretty good :3**

**Edited by Lady Rain, whom I appreciate tons!**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_11. Chapter Eleven_

For several nights afterward, I heard nothing from LaCroix about Heather. As much as I would have liked to believe that he had nothing to say about her, I doubted it. A feeling was percolating in my gut, never letting me forget that Sebastian had found out about my Ghoul, and I didn't know if it would be okay by him if I kept her around.

I hoped it would, because I needed her.

Heather was kept in the dark about why it was such a big deal. I didn't want her to worry or feel bad about being in the living room when LaCroix dropped me off. If I told her, she would only blame herself and cry. If he would make me do something about her, I didn't want her to be miserable during a time when she should be happy.

I tried to spend as many nights at home with her as I could after that. The last thing I wanted was to distance myself from her, no matter how much easier it would be on me when (or if) Sebastian decided that I couldn't keep her around. It might have been easier on the both of us if I'd done my best to stay away from her, but I didn't. Was I selfish? I didn't think so.

But then the e-mail came.

_(Subject :) Your Ghoul_

_(From :) LaCroix_

_It has come to my attention that you've been keeping a ghoul at your apartment, and I would like to discuss terms of agreement relating to the ghoul in question. I would like to assure you that I am __not__ pleased by this, and I do not wish for you to loiter about to draw the matter out. If you do so, I will send Sheriff to deal with her in my own way. –SL_

My mind echoed with constant questions, what sort of terms did he mean to discuss? Would he make _me_ kill her myself? And more importantly, what would happen to Heather? The question that bothered me most was what would happen to Heather after all of this was said and done. I would, if I had to, secure her a safe place to live out the rest of her life in peace.

I didn't entirely know why I did it, but I got dressed in my work clothes. I didn't have a job to do, I was just going to Ventrue Tower to talk about Heather and the 'terms of agreement' as Sebastian called it. It was an impulsive thing, and I didn't know I was doing it until it was done. Before I knew it, my boots were on and I was throwing my trench coat over my bodysuit. I was scared for Heather, and I had hoped I would never feel that way again after the Vandal incident.

The whole walk over to Ventrue Tower was nerve racking. Each step made my feet feel like lead bricks, weighing me down and making it harder to do what LaCroix had told me. I knew some dark fate awaited me at the tower, but if I turned away and ran, a worse fate would come, and I wouldn't be able to stop it.

Chunk buzzed me up to the penthouse, and it wasn't until I was in the elevator that I started to feel sick. Not as though I needed to go to the hospital (vampires can't get ill) but sick as in my gut was telling me something bad was going to happen. All I could do was try and plead Heather's case, hopeful that maybe LaCroix would let her stay around.

But when I saw him sitting at his desk, with my ominous best friend next to it, I felt all hope slowly die. I swallowed and stood before his desk, ready to do whatever it took to keep Heather as my friend. Or alive at least.

"I'm here," I stated.

"I can see that," He didn't sound happy to see me, but he never sounded as if he was, so there was no change there. "I wish to discuss with you the…ghoul you've been keeping."

"Listen, I _know_ you're mad about Heather but she hasn't done anything to violate the masquerade! She's kept my secret for as long as we've been friends and—" He held up his hand to silence me.

"Let me finish," I snapped my mouth shut, and let him continue; "Do you not recall the ghoul you had to eliminate? Patty?" I nodded, I remembered her, but barely. She was no more important to me than a fly is to the flyswatter.

"But Heather isn't like Patty!" Which was true, "She's not obnoxiously loud or a big mouth! She's kept my secret for two years an—"

"Two _years_?" He growled, I shrunk back. I had forgotten that he didn't know Heather had been my ghoul for two years, I could only hope that would help later on in the deal-making. But, as it seemed, it would be the very thing that signed her death warrant. "You've been keeping this ghoul for _two years_?"

"That's right, but doesn't it count for something? I mean, if two years went by and you didn't even know about her, doesn't that make you think she's trustworthy?" I hoped to the god that damned me that it did. I wanted so much for him to look deep inside and find it in his black little heart to let me keep my friend.

But I was neglecting to remember that it was Sebastian LaCroix I was talking to.

"And what happens when it can't get its blood? Hmm?" He asked; I could hear the controlled anger in him. His eyes were narrowed, and filled with the dislike that I wasn't just doing what he said and not questioning it. "It will end up betraying our secret and we'll have to put it down anyway. I will be spared the trouble if I just eliminate it now." I didn't like how he was calling Heather an 'it' like she was an animal or a t-shirt.

"_She _won't," I put emphasis on 'she', "_She_ would never do that to me."

"Isn't that what you thought before Maximilian left you here?" That was cold. I never thought of LaCroix as cruel, but right then it felt like getting hit below the belt. I didn't show how much that hurt me, I couldn't give him the pleasure.

"But Heather means it," I was my rebuttal; "She's a good friend to me and has kept my secret for two years. _You_ might not believe me, but it's true. She hasn't told anyone yet, and she would rather die than tell." It wasn't as strong as I'd expected, but I did hope it was enough to persuade him. "I know her better than anyone else, and I know she wouldn't do that."

I could see he wasn't being persuaded. Jesus…it was like trying to convince a pack of lions not to eat the wounded gazelle. As hard as it was, it had to be done. I didn't know how, and I could feel the steel of uselessness coming down on me like the blade of Sheriff's sword on the neck of an offender.

"I saved her life," I started up again, "And she vowed to guard mine." He raised his eyebrow; I could only hope that he got the connection between what I did for Heather and what _he_ did for _me_. If he did, it might be the thing that would save Heather's life from Sheriff's sword. He would have to be the one to kill her if it came to that, because I would be the one defending her.

For the longest time, he had a look of indecision on his face. I couldn't believe that he was actually considering another option! I was so dumbfounded by it that I couldn't move. I just stood there, paralyzed, and waiting for his response.

"I will make a deal with you," He said, my hopes rose again, was he seeing my side of it? Oh god I hoped so. "Because you are my most indispensable agent, I will allow your ghoul to live." My hopes skyrocketed; I was half a second away from jumping over the table and tackling him in his chair with a big hug out of total joy. But then he continued, "The only thing I ask from you is you never see nor speak to it again."

The world seemed to stop spinning. I had bargained for Heather's life, but in doing so, I had cost us our friendship. I had hoped to keep both intact, but LaCroix seemed to have other ideas in mind.

"What?" I breathed, "There's no other deal we can make?"

"I'm afraid _not_," He said, the strength in his voice was showing through. "It's either that, or I have Sheriff go and behead it right now." I hated the options I was given. I had to choose between having her dead, and having her dead to me. No matter which one I chose, Heather would be out of my life forever. "What is your decision?"

"…I'll tell her to go…" It was better than getting her killed. I was selfish, but I wasn't so selfish that I would surrender her life.

He must have heard the weight of the sadness in my voice, because he added,

"I can be a bit cruel at times, but you must remember, the responsibility of this city's kindred rests on my shoulders." He said, "So I cannot always be a tolerant man."

"Whatever," My voice cracked, I had to get out. I turned and left without being dismissed, scurrying down to the lobby like a frightened rabbit. My vision was so blurred by my tears I that could have run into a wall or two if I didn't know any better. I was alone in the elevator, I could have cried there, but a camera was spying on me from one of the corners.

I tapped my foot to help occupy my mind until I could find a quiet, private place to cry. I didn't know who monitored the security cameras, but it didn't matter, I didn't want them to see me crying. It was against my policy to do otherwise, it made me stronger.

The elevator doors couldn't open quickly enough. Were they, too, mocking me? I was on the edge, I almost gave up my policy and crumpled over crying right there. My vision was completely gone behind the water, and I had to roll my lips in between my teeth to control myself. I had hoped to maybe make it to a dark ally or something, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen to me.

"Chunk?" I had to take a deep breath and hold it for a minute or two before saying his name; I couldn't hint that I was hurting at all, "Where's the lady's room on this floor?"

"Oh, um, down the hall and to the right there." I nodded and ran off with him calling onto my back, "You okay Miss. Young?"

I burst through the bathroom door, and immediately lost it. I crumpled over on my knees and sobbed, surprised to find that it still hurt to lose someone, even as a vampire. I had hoped that I'd numbed my emotions down enough so that I wouldn't feel the gaping hole when I had to say goodbye to someone. I was wrong.

Truthfully, I forgot how it felt to cry that hard. To feel my gut twisting and threaten to make me throw up. I cried so hard that I started to gag and even coughed a few times. My fingers retracted and clenched against my palm, and I felt the trickles of tears drop off my jaw and land onto the back of the hand I had on my knees.

But as my crying slowed, I was slowly able to think more reasonably. I was doing Heather a favor, I told myself, if I didn't make her dead to me Sebastian would make her dead. Period. It was a far better thing for her to live without me than to not live at all. So, with that in mind, I got up and went to my apartment to do what I knew was right.

**

* * *

**

Here's another one I cut in half! Woo?

**Edited by the awesome Lady Rain!**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_12. Chapter Twelve_

I stood outside the Skyline Apartments, looking up at the sign that hung over the door. I knew what I had to do, but I would have preferred to do anything and everything else. Truthfully, I didn't know if I _could_ do it; was I strong enough to handle it? I didn't really think so.

Eventually, I walked in and got inside the elevator, heading for the fourth floor. I had to tell Heather to leave—despite how good of a friend she'd been to me. I slumped against the side of the elevator, staring at the tops of my knees. I couldn't cry right before, no matter how much I was hurting inside.

The elevator doors opened up to the hallway outside my apartment, and it took all the strength I had to get up off the floor and out the elevator before it closed on me. I searched my brain for other alternatives to what I had to do, my strength was quickly fading. She had done nothing to deserve this, in fact, she'd done everything _not _to deserve it.

I pushed open the door and saw her sitting on the sofa, watching television. I guessed that she would probably be going to bed soon, she was the day walker in the apartment—or—she _was_. She gave me a tiny smile that melted away all the strength inside me I had left. I had to do it quick; before LaCroix found out I never did it. I had to protect Heather's life, and that meant keeping her away from me.

"Heather I—" I started off after she said hello to me. Those same choking cries I felt in the Ventrue Tower ladies room were creeping up my throat again, threatening to come out. "—I want you to get out." I didn't want to be mean to her, I didn't want her to hate me, but I wanted her to never_ want_ to see me anymore. That would make coping without her a little easier, I thought. "Get out of my apartment, and don't come back!"

"Funny Violet," She thought I was kidding. I couldn't have her staying in my apartment anymore, I was about to break down in tears. It took her a while to see the seriousness in my face.

"Get out," I growled, swallowing the whimpers I had in my throat and blinking away the tears behind my eyes. It took her a minute or two to take me seriously, and when she did, I saw subtle horror sweep over her features. For the first time since we'd met, I thought I saw fear when she looked at me.

"Violet—" I couldn't take it anymore, I needed her to get out and away from me before it became any harder…if it could.

"LEAVE!" I screamed, flashing my fangs at her to scare her out quicker. She put her hands on her face and ran out of the apartment in tears, slamming the door shut behind her. I didn't turn to watch her run out; I stayed with my back turned towards the door, tears streaking my face like raindrops on glass.

* * *

I couldn't stay at home. All at once, it became like a mausoleum to me. The whole place was at rest, but whispered the memories of when Heather and I were roommates. It was impossible for me to remain there and let myself be crushed by the silence; but I also couldn't go to Ventrue Tower like I often did when Heather wasn't around to keep me company. I was mad at LaCroix; there was no way I'd ever ask him for anything ever again.

In the end, I decided to go to the Last Round and bask in one of the oldest of kine traditions, drowning my sorrows in the murky dreariness that is best known as a bar. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.

The Last Round, I hardly went there at all. Being a member of the Camarilla and one of LaCroix's agents, I was so rarely welcomed. But, truth was, I finally had something in common with the Anarchs and my newfound dislike for LaCroix seemed like enough to buy me a ticket in. I only hoped I didn't get hustled by Damsel of Hector, the meanest of the Anarchs.

One of the only things I hated about going to the Last Round that night was the fact that I couldn't drink. I wanted to buy all the alcohol my paycheck could cover and drink my sorrows away like a bum. Hey, I deserved it; I just lost the only person in the city, maybe the world that I felt I could truly trust.

But I managed to convince myself that sitting in one of the booths would have to suffice. What other choice did I have?

"What are you doing here, Cami?" I knew that voice, I didn't even have to look up to know who it was.

"Hello Damsel," She always called me Cami, but then again, she called everyone in the Camarilla that.

"Answer the question," She growled, "What the hell is a Camarilla bitch like you doing on Anarch turf?" I didn't make eye-contact with her; I didn't even turn my head her way. I kept my cheek in my palm, looking in the opposite direction of her, towards the side of the booth. Too emotionally drained to deal with Damsel and her sailor mouth.

"Go away, I'm not in the mood," It seemed like a reasonable request, I didn't even shout. But that wasn't enough for her.

"Well, I'm not in the mood to be ruled by a fascist prince! Do you see me asking him politely to get the hell out of L.A and leave the Anarchs alone?" It seemed to me like that was the only thing she didn't try.

"Get lost," Was my simple request. I was far from in the mood to be bullied by an angry redhead, maybe I would have done better in an argument with her if I wasn't so unhappy.

"Hey kid," And I knew that voice. It was Nines, one of the two Anarchs that didn't want to tear my throat out for associating with the prince. I'm not going to lie and say he was _happy_ about it, but if I didn't bother him, he didn't bother me. "What brings you to this side of town?"

"I don't really want to talk about it," But I knew Nines wouldn't leave it like that. He was like a big brother, looking out for me when our paths crossed. One of the few kindred that wouldn't lie and scheme his way into getting what he wanted from me. Part of the reason he was on my 'people I won't kill…' list. A list LaCroix was teetering on being erased from.

Against my wishes, Nines slid into the seat across from me and asked again.

"Nines! Why are you worried about this Cami bitch?" Damsel asked, sounding exasperated and on the verge of bashing my face in. Eh…I didn't care much at the time.

"Damsel, just sit down," Nines said, smoothly. I turned my head to see if she'd do it, and she did, much to my surprise. She obeyed Nines without a word, and I had a sneaking suspicion why. "C'mon kid, you don't usually wander far from Ventrue Tower, and this _is_ a bar." I sighed and decided to say something, part of me wanted to connect with people who detested the prince as much as I did at the moment.

"Fucking LaCroix made me get rid of my Ghoul," I didn't bother to use her name right away, they didn't know her. But I decided to tack it onto the end anyway, just so I didn't have to keep using the word 'ghoul' during the conversation: "Heather."

"So what?" Damsel interrupted, "Ghouls are problems anyway,"

"It wasn't like Heather was another Patty or anything, she was my friend. We'd been best friends for two years before LaCroix found out and made me cut all ties from her. I can't even see her on the street and say hello."

"What would have happened if she stayed?" Nines asked, I was surprised at how good it felt to tell someone what LaCroix had made me do, Heather would have tried to fight back if I told her the truth.

"He would have called Sheriff to kill her," And that set Damsel off:

"That goddamn prince! Who the _hell_ does he think he is to tell you that you can't keep your ghoul if you want? That's _your _business, not _his_!" She was so easy to piss off. Always got hot under the collar, but at the time I was okay with it, I was mad too.

"I yelled at her and told her to get out. I figured that if she didn't _want_ to see me anymore, it would be easier to stay away from her," Saying it out loud made it seem a lot more logical to me than it did in my head, unlike the vise versa which was usually the case, "But now she thinks I hate her."

"And that's why you're here?" Damsel guessed. I nodded.

"My place feels dead, I don't think I can sleep there anymore." Nines gave a light chuckle at that.

"Well, you're gonna have to kid," I shrugged; I knew he was right; I just didn't want to admit it. "Damn, this is one of those nights I wish I could get a beer."

"Me too," Both Damsel and I said at the same time, a thing that usually made us girls giggle, only acknowledged by the mad look she gave me. I stared down at the coaster sitting on the table; it was useless to me unless they served blood here in a cold glass. As far as I knew, they didn't.

"Are you gonna quit the Camarilla?" Damsel asked, sounding almost as though she were warning me to do so, don't touch that Violet, you'll regret it.

"I can't."

"Why not?" She sounded pissed off again, "He's an asshole! Why don't you just quit? We might be able to save you enough to let you in the Anarchs,"

"Because I made a promise," I snapped, almost slamming my hands on the table, "I promised that I would guard LaCroix with my life because he saved it all those years ago. I owe him that." Despite how much I was indebted to him, that didn't mean I had to be happy with him. I might not have liked him at all at that point, but I couldn't go back on my promise.

"So, just because you made a promise, you're staying under his control?" I shrugged, that sounded a bit dramatic to me but, yes. I nodded. Her face molded into an expression that made me think she was impressed with me. "That's cool I guess, you're one of the only kindred that keeps their promises. And possibly the only Camarilla member that isn't a _total _bitch." I didn't say anything; I didn't have much to say. I should have been flattered, that was her way of complimenting me.

"What time is it?" I asked, scanning the bar for a clock. Nines looked around too, but was the one to find it.

"Almost four."

"Damn," I grumbled, "For a bad night, it sure went by fast." I tried to recall where the time had gotten to. I remembered being summoned to LaCroix's tower at around eleven, being gone for about an hour (but the walk over there was also part of the hour) and crying in the bathroom for half-an-hour. So that added up to twelve thirty, with another hour yelling at Heather to get out and crying in the apartment tacked on. Maybe an hour to walk from the Skyline apartments to the Last Round, maybe less, I wasn't sure.

There were several hours I couldn't account for, was that bad?

"You should probably get going kid, sun'll be up soon." I shrugged, I knew how right he was, but was too afraid to go home alone. Nobody would be there, and I seemed like the only vampire who was afraid of being alone.

I got up to leave, dreading the coming loneliness that my apartment would bring. If I could survive the suicide missions LaCroix often sent me on, I could survive a few unconscious hours in my apartment. Alone. Couldn't I? I wasn't entirely afraid that I wouldn't get over being alone; after all, I'd done it once before already.

"Hey kid, listen," Nines said, stopping me right before I left the bar, "You've got an Anarchist soul, and as long as you've got that, you're welcome back here."

"Thanks Nines, I might be taking you up on that offer," I knew, more accurately, that I would definitely be back the next night I had off. I needed a place to escape the silence, and The Last Round would be the place to do it. He gave me a quick nod, and I left.

I entered the apartment right before my phone began to ring. I lifted it out of my pocket and read the caller ID, it was Mercurio. I flipped it open and said hello into it, wondering what he could want. But I already had a suspicion what it was.

"Violet, what happened? Heather showed up here not long ago in tears, saying you didn't want to be her friend anymore and that you kicked her out. Did you two have a fight?"

"Something like that," I said, feeling the swimming sadness coming back like a disgusting after-taste, "How is she?"

"She's getting to be okay, she's in the bathroom taking a shower, and I'm letting her stay at my place until you two get this thing fixed up." I felt a stab in my heart; we wouldn't be getting it fixed up any time soon. "What started all of this?"

"Truthfully," I began, swallowing the cries climbing up my throat, "It was LaCroix's orders." I spent some time explaining to him what had gone down in LaCroix's office, and how Heather wouldn't be able to even speak to me again. I asked him to make sure Heather knew that it wasn't my fault, and that she shouldn't come trying to make things better. "And," I added, "Make sure she's safe."

"Will do," I could understand why that was all he said, what else was he to say?

I hung the cell phone up and sat down on the couch to cry some more. I hated the loneliness, and, for once, eagerly awaited the coming daylight.

**

* * *

**

I love the fact that I'm getting so many reviews now! It was the one that threatened my losing a leg that got me to work on it (no time, between school, friends, and my manuscript x.x) and I think it turned out okay. Thanks to all my reviewers, which no longer amounts to just Lady Rain (No matter how awesome she is!)

**Edited by Lady Rain :3**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_13. Chapter Thirteen_

LaCroix had emailed me about another assignment, but I didn't want to do it. He'd waited a few days after he ordered me to get rid of Heather before he emailed me, but that didn't mean I was any happier to hear from him. I got ready for my assignment, knowing that I had to do it no matter how reluctant I was.

I made a promise, and I would keep it.

Going to Ventrue Tower was a chore - no, worse than a chore. It was torture. I would have preferred to be cooked alive in the sun than go back to that place, and back to that man. If a man is what you could call him.

Chunk greeted me with a surprising degree of cheerfulness. I wouldn't be able to say for sure, but I think he was trying to make sure I wasn't going to break down again. I knew I wasn't, I'd gotten it out of my system by that time; all that was left was an empty hole in my chest where Heather's friendship once was.

I stared down at my fingernails as the elevator went up to the penthouse, telling myself over and over again not to get angry and overreact. I didn't care how much I wanted to smash his stupid head into the desk and tell him to fuck off; I had to remember that Sheriff was stronger than me and could easily kick my ass. That, and I'm pretty sure bashing his head in was against my vow.

He sat at his desk as he always did, filling out papers for his company that I would never really understand. I went to his desk with my hands in the pockets of my trench coat, looking down at the floor and not at him. I didn't know if he noticed it or not, but I didn't really care.

"What did you want?" I asked after a few minutes of silence. He looked up at me then, eyes painted with anger and agitation.

"You will _not_ speak to me that way," I turned my head away from him, which seemed to piss him off even more. "And you _will_ look at me when I'm speaking to you."

"Just tell me what it is you want," I muttered; he huffed and crossed his arms. I was still mad at him, but that much was obvious.

"Do you remember the rival company that we had to have dinner with?" Of course I did, how the hell could I not? Worst night of my existence.

"Yeah,"

"He wants to visit each company…" He went on to explain why, but I wasn't even listening. I knew what he wanted me to do, it was painfully obvious.

"No," I said as he ended his explanation. My saying no was like setting off a bomb in his office, he erupted like a mad dog.

"No? Did you just say _no_ to me?!" I nodded, I wasn't afraid of his fury anymore; nothing he could do to me would be worse than living with that sinking hole in my chest. Death would be a relief.

"My job is to protect your life," I said, clenching my fists so hard that I nearly pierced the skin with my nails. "And that's all I'm going to do. I'd agreed to help you before out of the goodness in my heart, because I saw you were in pain about losing something you held so near and dear to you. But you _took_ something from me that meant just as much. Why the hell should I do anything to help you?"

"Must I remind you that I _bent_ the delicate laws that govern our society to give _you_ and your _ghoul_ a chance to live? If that isn't enough of a reason, I _can_ give you another one." He was angry, even if it didn't sound like it. He didn't like insubordination, but I think a part of him also didn't like that I admitted that I helped him because I felt sorry for him.

"Go ahead," I snarled, "There's nothing else you can do to control me anymore." I extended my arms wide and leaned in towards him. "I've got nothing else!" I swept around towards the door and walked away, leaving him dazed and angry behind me.

I went down to the lobby and almost left, but Chunk started up a conversation with me. I had an hour or so before I was supposed to meet Damsel and Nines at the Last Round so I figured I could spare a minute or two to talk to the chunky security guard.

"Haven't seen you for a while, Miss. Young, has everything been alright?"

"Of course," I said, although it was a lie, "Mr. LaCroix and I just haven't had any business to attend to for a while." At the rate it was going, he wouldn't have any business at all. A part of me felt guilty for not helping him, but it was overpowered by my anger for him. Why should I help him keep something he loved when he wouldn't let me?

"Listen, I—um—get off work in a couple of hours, if you want, I could treat you to breakfast." I tried not to wince; the thought of having food with him was downright nauseating. I didn't really think I'd get any, even if I could eat.

"That's very nice of you but…I'm not really a morning person. Plus, I've got to go meet my friends Nines and Damsel later." Anything, _anything_ to get out of having to be around him while he eats. And—you know—burn in the sun.

"I don't believe we finished our meeting." I turned my head towards the side and saw LaCroix standing beside the desk. I turned my attention back to Chunk and talked with him as if Sebastian wasn't even standing there. He no longer existed to me, and I wasn't too fond of talking to myself when others were around.

"So I don't think I can, nice of you to ask though." I tried to keep his attention on me, which was surprisingly easier than I'd imagined. He couldn't acknowledge Sebastian either, if he did than that would mean he existed and, of course, he didn't.

"Oh, alright then…" I smiled and turned to leave for the Last Round, but Sebastian grabbed my wrist and yanked me back into the building with nearly enough force to break my arm.

"First you disrespect me in my own office, and now I find out your cavorting with the Anarchs?"

"Let go of me," I growled, trying to pull my arm back. He wouldn't give it; he just tightened the grip he had on it, like a vice.

"Are you just _trying_ to test my patients or are you truly this dim-witted?" I wanted to growl, to get angry and let the beast inside me out a little just to get my arm back. But I couldn't, there was no such thing as letting it out just a little. It was either it was out or not. No middle ground.

So it was out.

I used my free arm to grab the gun closest to it and hold it up under Sebastian's chin. One accidental jerk would send his brains all over the wall. As far as he knew.

"You drove me to this when you took Heather from me," I jammed it further up under his chin, defying his look of livid outrage. Well, no shit. "Now let me _go_,"

"Come on now you two! W-We don't need to fight like this!" Chunk scrambled, wanting to fix the situation before it got dangerous. He was dealing with vampires, it was always dangerous. I jerked my arm away from Sebastian and left the tower, holstering my gun as I left.

I'd been hanging around with the Anarchs for a few weeks since I was ordered to let Heather go. Somehow, during that time, Damsel and I had gotten to be not-enemies. I won't say we were friends, because we weren't. She would never admit hanging around with a member of the Camarilla, but it was what she was doing no matter what it was called.

She was there before Nines was, so we sat at a booth together and waited for him to arrive. It wasn't so out of place that he was late, he had a tendency to be the last one to show up.

So, I figured I'd ask:

"Damsel, you've got a crush on Nines, don't you?"

"No." I'd have taken her answer at face value, if she'd looked at me in the face when she said it. She looked at the coaster, so I knew she was lying to me.

"It's alright if you do," I said, "I'm just wondering. You look so beautiful when you talk to him. Imagine, a girl like you in love with a guy with a blue jacket and the heart of an eagle. Isn't that what they call love?"

She bared her fangs at me; "Shut up! You wanna die?"

"Threatening people again?" We both looked up and saw Nines standing beside the table. I think if Damsel could turn red, she would have. We were lucky that Nines hadn't heard anything we said before the threats, because the music was too loud.

The rest of the night, I spent observing Damsel. She wouldn't admit to loving Nines, but you could see it was all an act. She did love him, but she was too proud to admit it.

**

* * *

**

Yes! I'm finally done with this chapter. It's kind of short, but I think it's alright. It took me FOREVER to get around to doing this, but I did it! Yay me!


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_14. Chapter Fourteen_

She hated me, I knew it. It was something so painfully obvious that I had a hard time accepting it. Two weeks since Heather had to leave had gone by, but they felt like a pair of eternities. I was lonely, surprisingly.

I had gone to Santa Monica that night to visit Mercurio. I needed to get some rounds for my guns, and I wanted an excuse to see Heather again. But as the cab driver took me to Santa Monica under LaCroix's dollar, I began to wonder if it was a good idea or not. Was I just digging a knife into the wound by going and seeing Mercurio? I wanted to say no, but I didn't believe it.

Even if it was, it was too late to go back. The cab driver parked outside the Asylum and was more than happy to charge it to LaCroix. I took the long way to Main Street, needing time to think and plan how the whole meeting was going to go. Maybe I could just go in, get what I needed, then get out without ever saying a word to her. Or maybe I'd go in, get what I needed, and say hi to Heather while I was there. I didn't know, but I needed to make up my mind.

By the time I'd gotten to Mercurio's apartment, I still didn't know what I would do. My heart was constricting with the anticipation, and my head was getting mad at me for not knowing what I was going to do before hand. I was nervous about how it would go, but I'd been in those kinds of situations before. I would get so worried about how something would go, I would oversell it, and then it wouldn't be nearly as bad as I had expected.

I could only hope this was one of those times.

Mercurio looked stunned to see me when he answered the door to his apartment. I gave him one of my small smiles I give to people when I don't know quite what to say. I searched his apartment with a quick glance, trying to find Heather. I didn't know why I did it; it was sort of like how a girl tries to get a glance at the boyfriend who she loved after he dumps her. She needed a look, a quick one, like an addict needs his fix.

"Hey," He greeted.

"Hi," It seemed like an inadequate thing to say, but it was the only thing I could think of. "I-um, need some more rounds for my guns."

"Okay, come on in." It was like stepping onto foreign soil. I'd never imagined I would feel so much like I didn't belong in his apartment. It used to be like a second home, he would even let me crash there sometimes if I stayed in Santa Monica a little too long. But it was like enemy territory then, and I hated it.

He took me to his arsenal of weaponry and got me the rounds I needed for my guns. Rounds were the one thing that, even though I didn't need them, I could never have too many of. They were always useful, and any sum of them was appreciated.

Just as I handed the money over, feeling strangely unhappy that I hadn't seen Heather, she came in from the bathroom with a robe on and her red hair wrapped up in a towel. I looked at her, and then down at the floor. It was hard to meet her face, no matter how much I wanted to see it again.

"Hello," She said, I nodded in her direction.

"Hi," Again, insufficient. I wanted to say 'Heather, please come home! LaCroix told me to do it and I didn't want to and I—I just want you to come home…' but I didn't. Words like that would be the death of her. Instead, I just stayed at hi.

"It's been a while," I nodded again,

"It has." And with that, she left the room and went back into the bathroom, pretending that she had left something she needed in there. I knew better, she didn't want to see me anymore. As heartbreaking as it was, I knew she had the right idea. I was just opening the wound again by going to see her, but I didn't think I could make myself stop wanting.

I thanked Mercurio for the rounds and went back to the cab. At that point, I was passed crying when I saw her. All I had by that time was a dull throbbing in my core, but that was painful enough itself.

After seeing Heather again, my home seemed lonely again. Damsel and Nines were good company, but they were both gone. I didn't know where they were, I just knew that I wasn't there. I sighed and put my guns down on the table, sitting on my sofa miserably. Truthfully, I didn't really care where they were. They don't interfere in my Camarilla business, and I don't interfere in their Anarch business.

I laid down and stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan go round and round. It was boring, but sort of hypnotizing as well. What else did I have to do? I was in no mood to do any work for LaCroix that night. Would I ever be again? Truthfully, I couldn't say. I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, but it was so early in the night and I was so awake that I couldn't. A fruitless effort.

My eyelids lifted slowly, refusing to stay shut. Bored and otherwise helpless to it, I hoisted myself up off the sofa and went up stairs to check my e-mail. If I had a job from LaCroix, I'd do it. Unless it was that hostile-takeover-pretend-to-be-his-wife job, in which case, he could forget it.

My computer happily started up, chirping to life. It had no troubles, Sebastian made sure that everyone's computer working on the LaCroix foundation system had no problems. Mostly because it would make it harder for him to get a hold of us, so it was mostly helping his selfish ass.

Like I'd expected, he'd sent me an e-mail telling me to go to Ventrue Tower and get an assignment from him. Sighing agitatedly, I turned the computer off and got ready for my night of work. I had to control myself better this time; I couldn't hold him at gunpoint again, no matter how good it felt.

Things that feel good are bad more often than not. Especially in my case.

The weird thing about going to Ventrue Tower was the fact that I didn't need to try and come up with a plan on my way there. It was all very simple really. Get in, get the assignment, get out, do it, go back, and tell him it was done. A, B, C.

Chunk was unusually kind to me when I came. I think he was still a little afraid of me from last time, but I didn't blame him for that. If I were him and I saw what he did, I would be afraid too—but that would only be if I was a fat security guard who didn't know he was working for a vampire prince. But I wasn't, thank god.

I won't lie and say I wasn't tense when I was on the elevator on my way up to the penthouse, because I was. Not the same sort of tense that I was when I visited Heather, a different kind. The kind you get when you're resisting a kill.

Nothing had changed about the penthouse. But then again, nothing ever really did. Sebastian was at his desk, doing some paper work as usual, and Sheriff was standing guard next to him. I bit my lower lip to keep my anger at Sebastian dormant, but accidentally drew blood.

"It's about time," Sebastian said without looking up at me.

"What did you want?" I asked, crossing my arms under my breasts. I had to constantly remind myself not to get too angry. If I did, Sheriff would have my neck snapped before I could even register what was going on.

"I wish to discuss with you some news that you might find particularly pleasing." I lifted my gaze from the desk and brought it up to his face, surprised and confused about what he wanted to say. Good news? He and I surely had different ideas of what kinds of news were good.

"What?"

"I'm pleased to tell you that your ghoul has passed the test I had in mind for it. She has kept her mouth shut about what we are and what she was for the allotted amount of time, thus, she will be allowed to return to your haven; but will still be closely observed for any signs of impending betrayal." I stared at him, at a loss for anything to say. It didn't seem real, it was the kind of thing you would want to reach out and touch, but didn't in fear that it would disappear in a puff of smoke. Sebastian was…letting Heather come home?

He and I stared at each other in silence, a look of mild annoyance from my speechlessness falling over his face. I didn't know what to say or do; I didn't know if it was really happening or if I was just dreaming.

But it sunk in, it was really happening. Sebastian was letting Heather back into my life! I was bubbling over with joy, unable to contain the smile that had erupted on my face. Without knowing what I was doing exactly, I ran over to Sebastian and gave him a tight hug. He didn't hug back, but I wasn't surprised much at that.

I took off out of his office before he could give me a condition for my joy. No, he wouldn't destroy happy Violet again. I ran into the lobby and Chunk saw my joy, he asked about it, but I barely heard him. His voice was like a quiet hum against my musical delight.

The cab driver was surprised to see me again so soon, and looking so happy. I told him to go to Santa Monica as fast as he could, and to charge it to LaCroix as usual. He did, and it turned out to be an unbelievably hard chore to keep from erupting from happiness as the cab drove. It wasn't until I was sitting in the cab for a while before the idea came into my head.

What if Heather didn't want to come back?

And just like that, happy Violet went away again. I stared out the window in amazement, dumbstruck by the idea that she wouldn't want to come back, and that I would have permanently lost my friend, even though Sebastian said I could have her back.

Oh well, the best I could do was try, right?

The cab driver let me out in Santa Monica outside the Asylum like usual, and I took the back-ally short cut to Main Street and Mercurio's apartment. I ran up the steps and into the building, right for his apartment door. I slammed my first against the door, as if he would answer it faster the harder I hit it. I knew that wouldn't happen, but that didn't mean I couldn't try, did it?

Mercurio answered, his tired expression changing into shock when he saw me and my joy.

"What are you doing back here?"

"You say that like you're not happy to see me," I teased.

"I'm always happy to see you Vi, you know that." We both smiled and I poked my head in the door, searching for Heather.

"LaCroix is letting Heather come home! Can you believe it?" He was still smiling, but I could have sworn I saw a hint of pain in his expression. Did he…did he not want Heather to come home? I didn't ask.

"No, I can't," His voice was also what hinted to me that he didn't want her to leave his apartment. I still didn't ask. He held the door open for me, and I went through. He told me to wait on the sofa while he went to get her, and I did. I crossed my legs after sitting down as he went to find Heather.

I could only hope that Heather wanted to come home, I missed her. Nines and Damsel were great and all, but Heather had been my friend for two years and had been there to listen when I needed someone to. She never pushed the matter out of me, but always listened when I was ready to tell her what it was. I could only hope that was enough to persuade her to come back.

As it turned out, I didn't need to persuade her. She came running throught he door that Mercurio had disappeared behind, her arms open wide. She wrapped them around me and pulled me close to her in a hug.

"Is it true, Violet? I can come home?" She asked, sounding as though she was half on the verge of tears.

"It's true, you're coming home," I promised once I had wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

And just like that, like a bolt out of the blue and without any forewarning, I had my best friend back in my life.

**

* * *

**

Woooooo here we go! Heather's back! Yay! I hoped I managed to keep LaCroix and Violet's brief moment together in character; but I think I did. What do you think?

**P.S. too bad the story alerts haven't been working…**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_15. Chapter Fifteen_

Almost immediately after Heather moved back in did the apartment begin to feel like its old self. It no longer seemed like a dark and unhappy place, and I liked that. Mercurio helped bring what belongings Heather had at his apartment back to mine, obviously with a heavy heart. He hid it pretty well with a smile and a laugh now and then.

I wondered what was up with him. I mean, I could probably guess that he liked Heather, that was kind of obvious no matter how much he tried to hide it, but did he not want her to move back in? After thinking about it a little more, I realized that the answer was just as obvious as him liking Heather.

He liked her, and liked her living with him.

Sitting on my bed, thinking about it, a smile crept onto my face. I never could have imagined that Mercurio would like Heather like he did; if he even did at all. There was a good chance that I was wrong, hell, it was _more_ likely I was wrong.

Oh well, whatever he was feeling for Heather was between him and her, and even if I was right, I had no right to interfere. But that didn't mean I wouldn't try to help them along if the opportunity ever came up.

Suddenly, I heard a noise coming from my computer, telling me I had an e-mail. I pushed myself up off the bed and went to it to see what it was. It was probably LaCroix; he was one of the only people who knew I even had an e-mail address.

And I was right.

I read the e-mail beckoning me back, did I remember that he needed me to help once more with the rival company and the middle one that couldn't seem to stay on our good side. I didn't know what possessed me to do it, but I put on my work clothes and said goodbye to Heather.

"Hi ho, Hi ho," I said as I took the guns off the table and put them in the holsters, "It's off to Ventrue Tower I go."

"He seems to ask you to do everything," She observed, "Haven't you noticed?"

"Yeah, I've noticed," It was true, too. But then again, you've probably seen that already. I don't need to explain, do I? "Well, duty calls. See you later."

"Bye," And I shut the door behind me. Part of me wondered what he could want, but part of me could easily guess. Unless he found another one of his female lackeys to play the part, which was impossible; that would pretty much be a neon sign saying I LIED! I LIED! Unless he dressed them up to _look_ like me. Still, not likely.

Chunk buzzed me up to the pent house with little to no difficulty, and the elevator ride seemed slower than normal. The doors came apart in the pent house, and I stepped through into the office. Sebastian was sitting at his desk and Sheriff stood beside him, all was usual.

"Are you willing to assist me now?" He asked. He didn't even look at me when he said it; but then again, he never did. Hell, there were a lot of things surprising me that shouldn't have.

"What is it you needed?" I asked and, for his benefit, I added: "Sir?" But the word tasted funny on my tongue, like a swear word does to someone who never usually swears. I didn't like it much, so I probably wouldn't say it again.

"I see your obedience has improved," I didn't like that he said it like that, but I nodded anyway. That night was not a night to piss him off, "Do you recall the company superior we had dinner with?"

After thinking about it, I realized what he meant. I nodded. "Yeah,"

"He plans to visit each company for—" He had that look on his face that told me he was going to go into a long speech about businesslike stuff that I knew I wouldn't understand even if it was in one of those For Dummies books.

"Business stuff," I interrupted. He nodded; I imagined that he was glad that he didn't have to explain any of it to me. I wouldn't have understood anyway.

"Precisely."

"I've told you before that I don't know anything about business."

"And you don't have to. I'll be doing all the talking; all you have to do is show up and act feminine. As much of a challenge as I know that is for you." I smiled proudly, he _had _been paying attention!

"I'll do my best," I said, giving him a salute that he didn't find amusing, "When do I have to do this?"

"Tomorrow night," He said.

"Do I have to dress up?" I really hoped not. But I guess I would if I had to. He shook his head.

"No formal attire is needed, but like I said, look feminine." I nodded. I was sure Heather would relish the opportunity to girl me up again.

It seemed like everything he asked of me lately required me to act feminine, the one thing that was harder for me than anything else. He never could ask me to shoot anybody or wound anyone; no it had to be act feminine. He _really _needed to learn how to play to my strengths.

I left his office feeling discouraged and maybe even a little groggy. When was the last time I went out for a good drink? Not some hobo that was good for maybe satisfying the thirst that welled up within my throat after a few sober days, no, I was talking about a good rich man with the kind of blood some vampires would give their left arm for.

Yeah…that would be great. I could taste the sweet redness on my tongue just thinking about it!

Besides, if I didn't drink good blood before the meeting that next night, I might lose it in the meeting and drink the Jesus out of the one man we had to impress. That might put a damper on everything. Yeah, I'd talked myself into it.

And I wasn't going to go and _buy_ that kind of blood, no, that wasn't any fun. What was the point of being a vampire if I couldn't sink my teeth into the jugular vein every once in a while?

I knew of one rich guy who hung around in front of Mercurio's apartment building, and he was easy to get into the back ally. All I had to do was promise him the one thing I'd never given to any man and 1, 2, 3 I'm full!

So that was where I set my sights. I paid for the cab by putting it on LaCroix's ever-growing tab and before I knew it I was on my way to delicious rich-guy blood and a full stomach. I won't say I didn't miss eating good mortal food, but there were a few finer things to drinking blood than eating food. First, you don't need to waste your time chewing; just a quick sip from your favorite wine glass and you're good.

When we arrived in Santa Monica, I tried to decide if I should take the long way or the short way. If I took the short way I would be able to intercept him before he decided to leave and go home to his wife, but if I took the long way I would have time to think about what a strangely good mood I was in. Maybe figure out why.

I went with the short way.

There he was; standing in front of Mercurio's building waiting for a tow truck to come by and help him take his piece of crap car back home. That thing broke down more than an unhappy housewife, although I think part of it might be because he didn't like his wife so he tried to stay away as long as he could. There was no way a car could break down that many times in such short intervals.

By the time I had approached him, I was already tasting his blood on my tongue. Oh it was so good; I _needed_ itmore than ever. I had been surviving on nothing but hobo blood for the past few weeks because they were the easiest to catch, so having the chance to dine on a succulent delicacy such as himself I imagined was going to be like eating for free at the Ritz.

When he saw me, a smile unfolded on his face.

"Well, hello there," He said as I forced myself to smile back. I did my best to conceal my fangs as I smiled, it might tip him off if he saw them.

"Hi," I said, trying to smooth out my voice and make it like fresh silk. Like VV's. "I was wondering; could you help me with something?" His eyes lit up.

"Of course, what do you need help with?" It was all too easy, thank god for perverted businessmen who married for money and not love. They were a vampire's promised land.

"Someone stole my purse and took it into that building over there," I pointed towards the door in the back ally, trying to pout out my lips to make him feel bad for me, "Can you help me get it?"

"Of course!" and he went with me into the back ally. When we got far enough into the darkness I, right before he grasped onto the door handle to go into the apartments above the pawn shop, grabbed onto his shoulders and bit down into his jugular vein and drank deep.

It was sweeter than I imagined. Like red syrup on my tongue; I dug my teeth deeper in as I tried to take as much of the goodness as I could without killing him. I was a monster, but not a murderer.

I could feel it when I needed to stop, I was about to drain him dry, and it took all the willpower that I had to pull my teeth away and let him go. He swayed a little from side to side, otherwise fine. He wasn't going to remember anything once the grogginess wore off, and he would go back to his life as if I had never drank from him.

I licked my lips as I walked to Mercurio's apartment, enjoying what was left of the residue on my lips. I'd decided that I might as well visit Mercurio while I was in town, that's what friends do. I was also hoping to maybe get something out of him about his infatuation with Heather.

He answered the door after two doorbell rings, but they were close together so I counted it as one. It was like _ring_, wait half a second, _ring_ again, like when a little kid gets to push the doorbell. He gets excited and pushes it three or four times constantly, that's how it was.

"Hey Vi," He said with a smile, "You and Heather alright?" I nodded.

"Yeah," it was surprisingly hard to make small talk with the bigger issue on my mind. How was I supposed to ask him if he liked Heather without sounding nosey or invasive? I guess it's like seeing a friend's pregnant girlfriend and not knowing she's pregnant. You want to ask, but you're worried that if you do, she'll get offended because she might not really be pregnant at all, just fat.

If I asked and he didn't like Heather, it would make it awkward and he might stop being as nice to her as he'd been lately. She and I couldn't afford to lose such a vital friend, especially when his apartment is like our second home, a place for Heather to take refuge if my apartment becomes dangerous for her for any reason.

"So what did you need?" Mercurio asked, brining me out of my thoughts. I shrugged.

"Can't a friend just visit a friend without any ulterior motives?" They probably could, but that's not saying that I was.

"I guess so," And he let me in. I went in and sat on his sofa, running possible maneuvers through my mind to ask him with smooth nonchalance. Honestly? I didn't have one.

Oh well, blunt and direct seemed like the best way I could think of.

"Mercurio, I was hoping I could ask you something. Do you like Heather?" His head shot towards me as he shut the door. I saw right away that it was a yes, no man reacted that way unless it was true. Even though I hadn't had a relationship in ten years, I remembered that.

"Sure I do," He said, "And I like you too," He knew what I meant; I knew he did, but he was trying to work around it with different tenses of the word. He knew I meant _like_ as in "want to date" but he wanted me to think that he thought I meant_ like_ as in "friends". He had to get up pretty early in the twilight to fool _me_.

"You know what I mean," I said, "Do you like her like a girlfriend or just a friend?" Did I really expect the truth? Not really. I half expected him to lie and say just a friend; it would be the answer to get him out of it for the time being. But that didn't mean I wasn't going to keep my eye out.

"Just a friend," He lied. See? I knew it. I nodded.

"Alright then," And I hung around for a few minutes more to make it seem like that wasn't the only reason I'd gone; it would be rude to ask that kind of question and then leave. Even though I was a tough-as-nails vampire didn't mean I was rude to the people that were kind to me.

Well, except LaCroix. But he doesn't count.

**

* * *

**

Sorry it took so long! I was working super hard on my manuscript and I didn't have time to work on this (it's running to 164 pages now! Woo!) but there's really no excuse for waiting this long, huh? Well, here it is anyway! :D I'm kind of embarrassed that it took so long to do. Sorry if this chapter is kind of pointless, but

_**I **_**thought it was cute. **


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_16. Chapter Sixteen_

Once again, Heather was enjoying it far more than I was.

Despite how mad she was at Sebastian for making her move out, she relished the opportunity to girl me up and send me out on what she referred to as a "date". The only thing that made me happy was the fact that I didn't have to spend money on a dress I'd only wear once. This time I was able to borrow one from Heather's closet and it fit—not perfectly, but well enough.

It was a green dress with darker green flowers weaving around it. The twisted straps kept sliding off my shoulders, and the V shaped neckline exposed the middle of my chest more than it probably should. That was what I didn't like about the dress; it made my breasts look smaller. Well, compared to Heather's water balloon breasts, I suppose they were.

It surprised me how self-conscious I became when I looked down at myself and saw how petite the dress made me look. It wasn't formal, just as he had ordered, but it still made me look like a completely different person. Violet wasn't bothered by her teeny breasts or her small shoulders, but this girl was. Was that how I really looked?

I shook the thoughts away. I wasn't going to let some piece of sewn-together fabric tell me how to feel about myself.

"You look great," Heather said to me when she came up from behind me and looked over my shoulder, "He won't be able to keep his hands off you!"

"Well, considering the fact that we're pretending to be married and expecting a baby, you're probably right." She rolled her eyes and turned me around for one last bit of make-up inspection before sending me on my merry little way. If it were anyone else, they would want me to pay them part of what I was earning during this whole dirty mess. But Heather—she was doing it because she took pleasure in taking me out of my comfort zone.

"Don't be so sour," She ordered, licking her thumb and rubbing it at the corner of my mouth. I flinched and smacked her hand away. Wincing, she brought her other hand over to rub the spot I'd smacked as it turned a pale shade of pink. I hadn't meant to hit her that hard. "Jesus Christ,"

"What the hell were you doing?" I snapped, wiping the thumb-sized spit mark off my face.

"You had some lipstick on the corner of your mouth and I wiped it off!" She snapped right back, "You're welcome by the way."

"Sorry," I murmured. She must have not been all that angry with me because she smiled and forgave me almost immediately.

"It's alright," She said as she picked up the pair of white, high-heeled pumps off the bed and handed them to me. "Hurry up; you're going to be late." I groaned as she left the room, and her laugh was the last thing I heard before she closed the door behind her. I slipped my shoes on as quickly as I could after I glanced over at the digital clock by my bed and saw that Heather was right. I _would_ be late if I didn't hurry.

I did my best not to fall down the stairs, gripping onto the railing as tightly as I could and slowly inching my way down. I was only glad that I didn't have to walk down any more stairs after that, it was all elevator from here on out.

When I got downstairs, Heather had my cell phone in her hand and had just clicked it off when I came into sight. She looked up at me and I must have looked confused because she pointed to the phone before I could open my mouth to ask any questions.

"That was your _date_," She said, emphasizing that dirty word, "He said that Mr. What's-his-face wants you to bring some of your pictures." I couldn't quite figure out how to respond to that, I never actually thought that Mr. Conan really wanted to see my pictures. I just thought it was a polite thing to say.

"Well…alright. Where are they?"

"Table," She said without making any hand motions to the table. She didn't need to, I saw the pictures that I had just gotten developed sitting on the round table in the kitchen. I went and got them, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about how they looked. As much as I tried to be, I wasn't a professional photographer. It was just something I did as a mortal to try and pay the bills that I'd absent mindedly carried over into my undead life. Heather was one of the only people who knew about my hobby, but now everyone would know.

Sebastian would know.

I didn't know why that single fact bothered me so much, but I did my best to ignore it anyway. Whatever the reason, I picked my photos up off the table, grabbed the little purse on the table she was letting me borrow, and bid Heather goodbye. If I was late, Sebastian would have my head. Literally.

There was no limo waiting for me this time, there didn't need to be. I didn't live that far from Ventrue Tower, the only thing I had to worry about was some horny bum getting a glance at how much the dress showed my legs and how thin the pumps made them look. That wasn't really that much to worry about.

Chunk's eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw me. It wasn't until I walked in and saw his expression that I realized that he might think something was going on between Sebastian and I. Would we tell him the truth? That I was pretending to be Sebastian's bride so he could hold onto the company? Didn't seem like that much of a chore.

"Wow," He said under his breath, his cheeks growing pink with blood. I resisted licking my lips, I didn't need to go and smear my lipstick before the meeting. Somehow, I didn't think Sebastian would be much help when I tried to fix it. "You look great Miss. Young!"

"Thank you Chunk, can you call the elevator?" He nodded dumbly and did as I asked. I thanked him and walked to the elevator, having to keep myself steady with the black marble near the short few steps.

Sebastian was waiting for me in his pent house like he always did. The other couple hadn't arrived yet, so I had time to get there and make it look like I'd been there all along. When he saw me, I could have sworn I saw a small shift in his neutral expression.

But it was just a guess.

"Good of you to turn up at last," He said as he rose from behind his desk and walked to me. I crossed my arms and put my pictures on his desk.

"Heather said you wanted me to bring these." I was embarrassed to give them to him; it felt like I was exposing myself to the whole world. But I didn't understand _why_.

"Ah yes," He said as he lifted them off the desk. He didn't even look at them, surprisingly enough. "These will do fine." Suddenly, over the speaker sitting on his desk that I'd seen him use to call down to the front desk, I heard Chunk's voice behind background murmur that reminded me of white noise.

"Mr. LaCroix, your guests are here for the meeting." Sebastian turned his back to me and went back to the speaker. I watched him push the button and say into the speaker,

"Send them up," And that was the end of that. "Are you prepared to behave like a lady?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"As ready as I'll ever be unfortunately." I half expected him to hold his elbow out for me to hold onto. For the image, I managed to convince myself. I was caught off guard when he started out of the pent house without me, not even telling me that he was leaving. I hurried to his side, needing to nearly run to keep up. Running in heels when you're naturally uncoordinated wasn't really the _best_ idea. And because of that, I fell.

I expected to hit the ground. I was prepared to face the throbbing pain that the collision had in store for me. But seconds past and there was no impact. My eyes, which were at one time tightly closed, fluttered open to find myself suspended above the ground. I was confused and surprised but after I looked towards what was holding me up, surprise flared up and became predominant.

On my waist, LaCroix's hands were holding me up above the ground.

I jerked myself back up on my feet, surprised and a little bit scared. I hadn't been prepared to see Sebastian holding me up, I might not have been so afraid if I was. He drew his hands back, crossed them across his chest, and huffed as if I had done something to bother him. Like I so often did.

"_You_ need to be more vigilant." He grumbled, walking off and leaving me in the hallway. Paralyzed.

I quickly caught up to him, but was careful not to fall over my shoes again. His catching me might have been like getting hit by lightning—it probably wouldn't happen again. I took my steps more carefully, busy persuading myself into believing that I would have rather hit the floor.

We walked into a room with a long oval table and a dozen blue-coated chairs. In front of the table was a chart covered in numbers and lines that I didn't understand. It was so bad that I felt I needed to say something. But I waited until after I'd sat down on one of the chairs and he'd thrown my pictures onto the table like a pile of useless papers.

"I hope you're not expecting me to know what that chart means." He shook his head.

"Believe me, I don't," He said, "I just expect you to sit there and try to look attractive." I couldn't tell if that was an insult or not. So I just put my head down on the table and tried not to fall asleep. There was something unbelievably dreary about a board meeting room; soul sucking. I mean, if I still _had _a soul.

Mr. Conan and his wife came into the room only a few minutes after Sebastian and I had. I was just grateful that I didn't need to wait very long, I hated being in that room as it was. They politely greeted us as they came in, and I immediately went from uninterested employee to fascinated wife. It was like going from black to white, and I had no time to linger in the gray.

"We're very pleased to see you again." I said, a painful but flawless smile painted across my face. It hurt to be so visibly happy; I wanted to just be shot.

"Violet has graciously given us some of her photographs," Sebastian said with an equally excruciating smile on his face. Even though he didn't show the pain at all, I knew how much it was like torture to him. I didn't need to know what he was thinking to know that. "Just like you asked."

"Let me see!" Conan ordered with a pleasant smile on his face, Sebastian handed them over without any fuss. "Ooh! Look at this one honey!" The self-consciousness came back when Sebastian picked up one of the ignored photos and looked at it. He was pretending to be interested so Conan wouldn't catch onto our façade. At least, that's what I told myself to try and make myself a lot less uncomfortable.

They marveled over my photos for a time, but then they were replaced by business figures and charts. I felt my eyes growing heavy with boredom. Each droning minute seemed to drag on and on for longer than it was needed. Why did time have to go by so slowly? It felt like I was going to commit suicide right there just to escape the sluggish minutes.

Before too long, I decided that I couldn't take it anymore.

"Sebastian honey," if I thought calling him 'sir' tasted funny, I obviously had never said 'Sebastian honey' before. That tasted strange, unnatural. LaCroix stopped his presentation to look at me. "You don't mind if I excuse myself to go to the restroom, do you?" I tried to use the sweetest voice I had, but I'm afraid that it sounded a bit fake. It was hard to be sweet to him, especially when I barely meant it. He gave me a blank expression for a moment before turning it into subtle disapproval.

"Not at all," He said. I smiled a genuinely happy smile. I was free from at least a little bit of the meeting. I needed to be secluded, to regroup and try to wake myself up before trying to sit through any more of it. I got up from my chair and left the room, surprised to hear Conan's wife excusing herself also and following me out of the room.

"You got bored too, huh?" She asked once the meeting room door was closed behind us and we were virtually alone. I nodded sheepishly.

"I—" I was afraid that my sentence would drag if I didn't say the rest of the sentence I had in my head. But those words sounded so bizarre coming out of my own mouth that I couldn't bring myself to say them as quickly as I should have. "—I do love Sebastian, I really do, but he knows that numbers aren't my thing."

"I understand; my husband is just the same way," Tabitha said with a warm smile on her aged face. I hadn't noticed before how old she looked, I hadn't had any conversations with her, so I didn't need to look at her and see, but I did then.

Together we walked into the bathroom and used it as our escape from the statistics and charts neither of us understood. For most of the time we were in there, she told me little things about herself. Her family, her husband, just little tidbits that I hadn't even really been listening to. She was a surprisingly kind woman, she kind of reminded me of Heather.

But as we lingered in front of the mirrors in the lady's washroom, talking about our marriages (Mine fabricated completely), her withered face fell into a sort of soft despair. I saw it, even though I didn't think she meant for me to.

"You know," She said suddenly, sounding kind of thoughtful, "You're very lucky to have a man who loves you so much." I raised my eyebrow, maybe a little too much. I didn't want to appear surprised; she was just falling for the act.

"What do you mean?" After I said it, I wished I could take it back. Would she think that Sebastian and I weren't really married after that comment? In retrospect, I didn't really think so. It wasn't really that much of a clue.

"Sebastian," She said, "Didn't you see it? The way he was looking at you all through his presentation?" If my heart were still beating by that time, it would have been rapidly pounding against the walls of my chest like a madman bouncing against the walls of a padded room. Half afraid, half surprised, and a little bit hopeful.

"He was looking at me?" I asked. Quickly, I decided to cover it up as best I knew how. "I must not have noticed, being as nearly asleep as I was." She smiled a little, as if she were thinking of a secret joke.

"It's understandable. He had this kind of expression on his face, but it was like he was trying to keep it to himself," But then she looked like she tried to cover up what she said. As if she didn't want me to know what she thought my 'husband' was thinking. "I'm sorry, that's a little too bold of me isn't it?"

Too bold? That had been the first time in a while that I'd heard that expression.

"Not at all," I said, "Go on, please." She had a mild expression of surprise in her face, but it softened and she went on.

"I can't really explain it, but he rarely ever stopped looking at you. Whenever he would look towards my husband and me, I would notice his eyes weren't really on us. Then I'd look, and I would see he was looking at you." As taken aback as I was, I knew I had to pretend that it was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Oh yeah," I said, "He does that a lot actually. No one else really said anything until now. But I know what you mean, I've seen it," Lie, lie, and another lie. "He's been doing that more frequently since he found out about the baby."

"I can imagine!" She said with a smile. But then it faded, and only its ghost remained on her weathered face, "Just…just don't let him forget how much he loves you. Alright?" I heard what she said, but I didn't really understand. Was this her way of telling me she wasn't happy in her marriage? That her own husband didn't love her anymore?

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Are you and Mr. Conan alright?" I didn't think it was any of my business, really. But she'd been kind to me thus far; she might even have put in a good word for Sebastian and me. She deserved someone she could talk to, even if it wasn't any of my business.

What I hadn't expected was that she started crying.

I didn't press the matter any further, I just did what I did when I saw Heather sitting on the floor of the blood bank's back room; heartbroken and suffering from massive blood loss. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and gave her a hug.

I didn't know if that was right, or if it was wrong, but it was what I thought was right. What surprised me was that she brought her own arms up and put them around my own shoulders, welcoming the comfort I offered.

"It's like I don't even exist anymore," She whimpered. Her voice was so soft and so shaken that I had almost missed it, "He works so late, he never comes home, and when he comes home and I'm waiting up for him he goes on to bed without even saying hello or giving me a kiss goodnight…" She went on to tell me the problems Conan was causing for her. How he didn't like her sister so he wouldn't let Tabitha talk to her, how he never appreciated anything she ever did for him, and how he doesn't even like to look at her naked anymore. I'll admit that last part was a bit too much information, but I felt so sorry for her.

The thing that makes it all even sadder was that she was willing to open up to a nearly complete stranger.

After I thought about it, I decided to give her the best advice I could possibly offer someone I hardly knew.

"Speak up," I said. She looked at me, the tears in her eyes nearly driving me to tears myself, "When he comes home, sit him down and tell him what's going on. Tell him that he's hurting you and everything that you just told me. I don't know if it's going to work, but the only other choice is divorcing him. If worst comes to worst, tell him you have no problem leaving him," I paused when something important came to mind. I quickly added, "Because you shouldn't stay with someone if he makes you so unhappy."

She and I sat in the silence of the bathroom for a moment, letting what I'd told her just sink in. I didn't know if the men were wondering where we were, but I didn't really care. Even if I didn't know that woman very well, she'd been plenty nice to me in the short time I knew her. Besides, I'd heard it all when I lived with Lynette all those years ago.

To my surprise, she nodded.

"Okay. Tonight I'll sit him down and try to talk to him. You're right; I can't stay with him if I'm not happy." I didn't know if I just fucked up their marriage, but what I was positive of was that it was fucked up without my help. I smiled and gave her a half-hug by putting my arm around her shoulder.

"That's the idea," I said, "But we probably want to fix that make-up before we go back. No need to set off their alarm huh?" She jumped up out of my grip and looked in the mirror, surprised to see the black river of mascara running down her face.

"Oh god! You're right," But before she could even ask, I had already dug out the mascara tube from within the purse Heather made me bring. I had to thank her for being so clairvoyant later. "Thanks."

"No problem."

After she touched up her make-up, we went back to the room together with a look on our faces that seemed to erase everything that happened. There were no tears in her eyes, and no hint of any distress on her face. Conan smiled when we walked in.

"There they are! We thought you ladies might have fallen in!" Looking at him after what Tabitha told me, I saw him differently. I'd once seen him as someone who might be able to help more than he could hurt, maybe even as a father figure to Sebastian and I. But now, I only saw him as the fat man who was breaking his wife's heart.

But I didn't say anything.

Later on that night, as they were saying their goodbyes to us, Tabitha gave me a little hug and a secret look that told me her plan. Conan hadn't seen it at all, but I wasn't even really that surprised.

"So," Sebastian began after they were completely gone, "What _really_ made you take such an extended leave previously?"

"Oh, nothing," I said with nonchalance, "You know how it is with the women's restroom. Someone's just _got_ to have an emotional breakdown." He paused, the ghost of a confused look on his face.

"You…?" his voice trailed off, as if he didn't want to assume anything that wasn't completely obvious. I smiled.

"_Please_, it's like you don't know me at all. No, it was her. Her husband was neglecting her at home and I gave her some pretty damn good advice."

"You better not have sabotaged my likelihood," He warned. He didn't even need to say what would happen if I had single-handedly fucked up everything we'd worked so hard to gain. I shook my head.

"Oh _believe _me; I wouldn't fuck up something I suffered so much through." I knew he didn't approve of the F word, having mentioned to me earlier that he thought it was a crude and tasteless word. He'd actually used bigger words to describe what he thought it was, but there was no way I could remember what they were. Ventrues, they always tried to sound smarter than they really were.

"Good. You're dismissed." I nodded and turned to leave.

I contemplated what the consequences would be if I turned around and gave him a hug from behind. Somehow, hearing how badly Conan treated Tabitha made me appreciate Sebastian's brand of selfishness a little bit more. He might never have thanked me for anything I did, he might have taken the one mortal I gave a damn about, and he might be whoring me out to save his own company—but at least he didn't ignore me.

But I didn't.

**

* * *

**

Yay chapter nine! I'm pretty sure LaCroix was still in character. Seemed like it to me. Well, anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this little bit of Violet x Sebastian romance that you all have been dying for. This was actually a lot of fun to do :D


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_17. Chapter Seventeen_

I walked into The Last Round with Heather at my side. I'd decided to introduce her to Damsel and Nines; they were my friends just as much as she was. Although, honestly, if they three were held up to gunpoint and I had to choose who I wanted to live, I'd have chosen Heather. I knew Damsel could defend herself, and Nines would have the gunman's head rolling on the floor before the choice could even be made. But Heather needed me to protect her.

She was nervous about meeting my vampire friends. I usually tried to keep my kind away from her, considering how many of them would kill to get a free drink. Humanity needed to be upheld, yes, but that didn't mean it always was. I smiled at her to calm her down, hoping to hide how nervous I was to introduce her.

Despite that, I knew Damsel and Nines wouldn't hurt her. It might seem silly to worry about what I knew wouldn't happen, but I couldn't help it. Heather was very dear to me, and I wasn't even supposed to be visiting that part of town anymore unless ordered otherwise. But when did I ever do what he said?

We found them sitting at the usual spot with two full glasses of water, just talking. I had no idea what they were talking about, but if I had to guess I'd say it probably had something to do with being behind a crushing blow to the Prince's ego. Yeah, that sounded just about right.

"Hey guys," I said when I got to the table. "This is Heather."

"Oh, is that the ghoul the jackass Cami prince banned a while back?" Damsel asked, sounding disgusted when she mentioned LaCroix. I nodded.

"The very same. Heather, this is Damsel and Nines, the anarchs." Heather already knew about the differences between Anarchs and the Camarilla. I'd also managed to remind her before we left for The Last Round to not mention LaCroix if she could help it. I knew _I _wouldn't, aside from that one time.

"Hi." Heather said nervously. I tried to think of a way to cut through the tension, to maybe find a friendly middle ground between us so she wouldn't need to be so nervous. Unfortunately, I hadn't had a chance to think things out completely before bringing Heather to The Last Round. I'd been too busy thinking about what Conan's wife had said to me in the ladies room only a few nights before.

I hadn't said anything about it to Heather, and knew better than to say anything to Damsel or Nines.

"Good to see you got your way," Nines joked; although it sounded less like a joke and more like sarcasm. If I had been a more sensitive girl, I'd have taken offence to it. Instead, I just smiled and glanced over at Heather to make sure she wasn't taking him too seriously. It didn't seem like she even caught the sarcasm.

Through the whole evening we spent at The Last Round, I was doing everything in my power to keep what Conan's wife had told me to myself. Somehow, I couldn't stand the idea of embarrassing Sebastian like that in front of the Anarchs. A small personal favor to him I suppose.

Damsel would look over at Nines with a sweet expression on her face when she thought nobody was looking, but I caught her on several occasions. I didn't say anything about it though; there wasn't really a need to embarrass her like that. Besides, I'd keep it to myself until I needed to blackmail her.

Suddenly, Skelter came over to the table and secretly pulled Nines aside for a private conversation. Damsel watched him leave, a look of agitation falling over her face like a veil.

When Nines was gone, Heather spoke up.

"What's the matter Damsel?"

"Skelter knows how much I hate to be left out of Anarch business." She growled, tapping her fingers on the table to control her rising anger. I did everything I could not to smile because I knew Damsel would get angry at me for it. She'd have known what I was thinking.

"I get it. I'd hate it if my boyfriend was a bigger part in something I loved to do too." I whipped my head towards Heather with a look of horrification on my face. She didn't really just say that, did she?

"What was that?" Damsel growled. I could hear the purest of hate bubbling up from deep within her throat.

"I-I'm just s-saying that your boyfriend—"

"Nines is _not_ my boyfriend!" She insisted. She was just lucky the music playing was louder than her voice or else Nines would have easily heard her.

"Calm down Damsel." I said, trying to get her to calm down. I didn't want her to shout something in anger that she wouldn't want Nines to hear. But my attempts to calm her down didn't really work all that well.

"Tell your _ghoul_ that she's wrong about me and Nines!" She shouted, putting emphasis on the word 'ghoul' as if it was a dirty word. Heather had already shrunk back into her quiet shell, afraid of Damsel.

"Heather, this is something you need to know about Damsel. _Never_ talk about how obvious it is that she likes Nines alright? She tries to deny it in hopes that it'll go away but she knows deep down that it won't." I was trying to bother Damsel and to explain things to Heather all at the same time. I could taunt Damsel all I wanted and not fear being killed; I could handle myself in a fight against her if it came to that. Heather wouldn't have been able to.

"Shut up!" Damsel growled.

"What are you fighting with them about now Damsel?" Everyone looked at Nines, who was standing beside the table looking just as strong and as valiant as he always did. I understood why Damsel liked him as much as she did, but that didn't mean that I liked him too. No, for some reason I never liked the brute strength type, and that was all Nines was really.

We didn't get to stay long after that; Damsel and Nines had to go put a stop to a Camarilla rally or something and we had to leave. I can't say what it was exactly, mostly because I didn't understand its purpose. I wasn't an Anarch, so it didn't really matter to me what they were doing. Them having to leave meant Heather and I did too, we weren't safe with all the other Anarchs. Aside from Jack, Nines and Damsel were the only anarchs that didn't want to smash my face in for being part of the Camarilla.

On the way back to the apartments, I told Heather everything that I couldn't say in front of Damsel and Nines. I told her about my fall at Ventrue Tower right before the meeting, I told her what Conan's wife had told me in the lady's room, and I asked her what she thought about it once the whole story was done. By the time it was done, she and I were in the elevator going up to the apartment.

"I think he _likes_ you." She joked. What I hadn't entirely expected was for her to start singing. "Violet and Sebastian sitting in a tree _K-I-S-S-I-N-G_"

"Shut up!" I hit her in the arm. She smiled at me with an apologetic expression on her face.

"I'm sorry." And I really thought she was honestly sorry, up until she started singing again. "Violet and Sebastian sitting in a tree _making-it like mad mon-keys_." And that warranted her another hit in the arm.

"You really want to die don't you?"

"Well, don't you like him too?"

"Whoever said he liked me to begin with?" I challenged. I was on the verge of strangling her right then and there, but I didn't know why it was bothering me so much.

"So you do." She guessed.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, you seem to be protesting it a bit too much." Her jokes were growing thin; I didn't think they were funny to begin with anyway. I didn't like LaCroix, I kept telling myself that over and over until it rang true in my head. Unfortunately, there was always a quiet feeling of doubt. "Okay, seriously? I think it's cute that he likes you. I mean, he doesn't like anyone. And no one but you likes _him_."

"Who said I liked him?" It was a question, not something said in shock. If it was true, no one could have told. Heather smiled.

"You just did." I growled and flashed my fangs at her to try and frighten her into stopping her jokes. It was funny when she made fun of LaCroix, but when she started making fun of me was where I drew the line. I don't think she was ever really afraid of me, she knew I'd never dream of hurting her. "Okay, if it bothers you so much I'll stop." But then I heard her add under her breath, "You know you love him."

"Shut up!" I shouted. She rolled her eyes and whistled like she hadn't done anything wrong. I didn't get an honest-to-god apology from her until I stormed up the stairs to go to my room. From the side of the stairs, she told me she was only kidding. I knew she was kidding, but I wasn't going to my room because of that.

All the talk about who likes who and who loves who that I'd heard that evening suddenly made me feel very depressed. It was like couples everywhere were mocking me and there wasn't anything I could do about it. I didn't love Sebastian for two reasons. First because he was my boss, and second because I'd loved before and he'd abandoned me. I didn't like the idea of opening up my heart again and letting it be hurt.

When I got into my room I nearly threw myself down amongst the sheets and closed my eyes. The image of my last love was fainter then, but not completely forgotten. I tried to think back to those happy times we had together, but they were so long ago that I could barely see them anymore. They weren't as clear as they'd once been. Did that mean I was starting to get over it?

I wasn't in my room for very long before I heard my computer tell me I had an email. I pushed myself up off the bed and walked over to the computer to check the mail. No doubt it was from LaCroix, I never got anything good. Not even masochist spam emails. Normally, people don't want them but when you spend ten years getting nothing but work emails, even spam is a nice change.

Of course, like I thought, it was LaCroix who had emailed me. For a split second I stared at the email, afraid that he'd somehow heard our conversation in the elevator and wanted to talk to me about it. I was trying to think of something to say about it, some sort of lie that would explain everything he heard without letting him go on living with the idea that I might like him. I didn't, and I was sure I never would.

As it turned out, he had a job for me and wanted me to go to Ventrue Tower as soon as I could to get the assignment. I felt a sudden deflation of relief. I didn't know what I'd have done if he heard the conversations for real.

When I got downstairs, dressed in full work garb, I saw Heather was popping some popcorn and looking for a movie to watch in the stack we had sitting on the coffee table.

When she saw me, she smiled.

"I've got work tonight," I told her. "Mr. doesn't-make-sheriff-do-anything needs me tonight."

"I'll _bet_." She teased. Ah, Heather and her sexual jokes. I rolled my eyes and decided that the best thing to do was to ignore the comment all together.

"See you later." And I left.

The walk to Ventrue Tower took as long as it ever did on any normal night. I kept my eyes down on the street, unable to think of anything else but what Heather and I had talked about it. I hated admitting that I was starting to think of Sebastian that way; I knew I also couldn't deny it. I'd even had a sex dream about him, and once you have a sex dream about someone it's hard to forget.

Chunk buzzed me up to the penthouse just as usual. I was glad I wasn't a Nosferatu, otherwise I'd have to use the sewers and just the idea of that made me sick to my stomach. It wasn't like I'd never been in the sewers before, it was just that I had the option to leave if I wanted and walk amongst the kine. I wouldn't have that choice if I was a Nosferatu.

Sebastian sat at his desk like he usually did, with Sheriff standing tall and intimidating beside him. With a smile on my face, I gave Sheriff a cute little salute before I turned my attention to LaCroix, whom didn't get a cute gesture.

Right then I subconsciously noticed how nice his hair looked that night. He had nice shoulders too. Just saying.

"Its about time you got here." He grumbled.

"I was a bit busy earlier, what do you need?" I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. I couldn't be in there while I was having those disgusting thoughts about him, I didn't want to be. I think a part of him was glad that I wanted to get in and out so quickly, but I didn't know why. I marked it up as to him wanting the job done.

"Are you familiar with the Elizabeth Dane?"

**

* * *

**

I made special time today to get this done. I've been neglecting it horribly and I apologize. I've been working crazily on my manuscript, worrying about my relationships at school, and just simply trying to exist with as little pain as possible.

**Not to mention I just started my own blog so…yeah. I've been hoping people would find it, but the blog hasn't really been eating that much of my time now that I think about it. I was actually happy with the way I ended this chapter. I'd had it percolating in my head for a while. **

**Enjoy!**


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_18. Chapter Eighteen_

I stood in a motorized lifeboat beside the dirty hull of the Elizabeth Dane, looking up at the rope ladder that led to the deck. Sebastian had said there would be policemen on board, and not to slaughter them. Too bad, I'd have had fun.

Releasing a breath, I grabbed onto one of the steps on the ladder and began my ascent. I had to remember to hide my guns as best I could when I got to the top, it might send off a red flag if a pale stranger with two guns climbs on the boat.

When my feet planted on the metal of the floor and there was no sound, I knew I was in the clear. Maybe not for the rest of the mission, but at least for that part. Even from where I stood, I could see the big spill of blood on the deck. The only thing I thought about the blood was that there sure was a lot of it. Blood couldn't make a vampire feel sick; if it did then it would be really unfortunate for the poor bastard.

"Psst, over here." I my attention flickered away from the blood and up to a police officer, motioning for me to come closer. I brushed the palms of my hands over my guns as I walked to him. Just something to make myself feel safer. When he saw me, his face morphed, like he was disappointed that it was me standing there. It wasn't that I so much minded, as it was that I was confused. "Jesus Christ…"

"What?" I asked, trying not to sound too insulted.

"Why didn't you come dressed like a cop? I can't keep sneaking in these know-nothing high school journalists if they don't have enough brains to dress the part of a cop." I didn't want to get insulted. I wasn't a high school journalist and I couldn't have known to dress like a cop. But after I thought about it, that might have been a better plan. Dress like a cop and no one asks questions.

"Sorry," I murmured under my breath, doing everything I could to control my anger. I didn't like him calling me stupid. But I was out numbered, and if I killed that cop then the rest would come and kill me. Policemen stand together.

"Just stay out of sight. I'll call off the guy guarding gangway A, when he's gone you get in without a sound. If you get caught, I don't know you." I nodded, seemed fair enough. When worst comes to worst, you play stupid if you can't fire off your guns. But when I thought he was done talking to me, he handed me a tan colored folder with paper stuck inside and held together with a red paperclip. "Here, take this. It's a copy of the police report." I nodded and held it close to me, where the hell was I supposed to put it?

He called off the man guarding gangway A, and once the coast was clear I made a break for it. The gripping suspense of the moment was ruined by me slipping on the blood in the middle of the room. I tried to keep myself from making a loud _smack _against the metal deck, but it wasn't that easy. I was just lucky I was able to scramble away before I was seen.

I kept low to the ground and hidden as deeply within the veil of shadows as I could. I couldn't risk being seen; This was one of those few times in life when doing what LaCroix said was probably better judgement than doing what _I _wanted. Like usual.

There was a thick feeling of suspense in the air, like smog over a crowded industrial city. My chest felt like it had ten pounds of lead weighing it down. If I still had to breathe, the weighted down feeling would've made that a lot harder than it should have been.

I went through the dark hull of the ship and found the security room up a small flight of metal stairs. I had to pick the lock, and it took what seemed like all of my eternal life to get the damned thing open. Yeah, lock picking, not my strongest point. I'd much rather have just shot the hell out of it with my guns until the lock broke open. But that might not be the wisest move.

But the door opened with a faint _squeeaak_ kind of sound – it seemed loud, somehow, the silence and obscure tension in the air amplifying any noise 10X. Even if it was one of those itsy bitsy mouse sneezes.

Still kneeling down on my knees, I inched forward as carefully as I could. If a door squeak was that loud on its own, I could only imagine how loud a full body hitting a metal floor would've been. _That _might have gotten me some unwanted attention.

Actually, that might have been one of my more boring assignments. Sure, I'd been ordered not to slaughter anyone in the past, but that was one of the only times I actually listened.

I got back up to my full height and worked the computer to unlock all the doors on the ship. Too bad I couldn't have had that when I needed to get into the records room, I might have been done by then. With my luck, it was doubtful; but not impossible. Hell, it's hard for me to think anything is 'impossible' after having lived as a Sabbat assassin for as long as I did.

With a click of the mouse, I had unlocked all the doors and turned on the security cameras. Before too long, I was cycling through the images on the monitor's glowing screen until I found the bleeding remains of the Ankaran Sarcophagus. I could've sworn I saw handprints on it, but I couldn't say for sure. I'd probably tell LaCroix about it anyway, he'd get pretty fucking pissed if I didn't.

I should have known better though to think I could go through the whole job without making an ass of myself twice. When I got out of the security room, I took a nasty and painful fall down the metal stairs and somehow managed to land on my elbow. I let out a soft yell in pain, using as many swear words as I knew.

"Hey, what was that?" I heard the cops outside ask.

"Shit!" I swore in a whisper, scrambling onto my feet and running through the Records Room door the second I saw it. Once inside, I pressed my back against the door and waited for the tingling pain in my elbow to subside. It was the worst kind of numbing feeling, tingling and temporary uselessness.

When the feeling went away, I grabbed the ship manifest off a table in the middle of the room. I held it close to me, near the police report, and made my escape out the door leading to the deck opposite Gangway A. I kept close to the ground and inched my way along it, trying not to slip or slide anymore than I already had. I almost slipped on the blood again, but managed to keep myself on my feet. I looked really awkward, but at least I didn't make a sound.

I climbed over the edge and let myself fall down onto the boat waiting at the foot of the ladder. The boat started to shift from side to side from the waves, nearly throwing me into the cold, black night water. I released a relieved sigh when the moving stopped and I was still in the boat. I _really_ wasn't in the mood to get wet.

The journey back to Ventrue Tower went uncharacteristically smooth. I half expected something or someone to jump out of the shadows and try to kill me for one reason or another, but nothing ever did. The thing about doing ten years worth of assassination work for LaCroix was that it tended to make you a little paranoid.

Chunk greeted me with that same cheerful fat-cop disposition that I'd gotten accustomed to seeing. He never wondered why I hadn't aged once during the ten years I was working at Ventrue Tower. If he did he never said anything about it.

I gave him a little wave on my way up to the elevator, and he knew exactly what to do without me asking for it. I heard the _ding_ of the doorbell and the doors slid open. The smooth ride up to the pent house didn't take very long, but long enough for me to notice that I'd gotten blood on my pants from when I slipped in it. I knew that the blood on the Dane was still fresh; I just didn't know it was fresh enough to stick to my clothes.

I sure hoped none of the cops found my footprints in the blood.

Oh well, if they did one quick bullet to the head would clear that mess right up. No problem.

When I got up to the pent house, I pushed my way through the giant old-style French doors and saw LaCroix standing by his desk talking with a group of people. I'd seen them before, and the only one I'd actually ever spoken to was the Tremere in the red coat. For obvious reasons.

"That's all I have to say, for now." Sebastian said, indicating with small, elegant hand gestures that he wasn't going to say anything else. The Primogen must have taken his hand movements at face value, because without another word of protest they turned their backs to him and filed out of the room in a big group. The only one to stop was the Tremere in the red coat who shared the same name as my sire.

"Good to see you're still alive, Neonate," He said, his eyes smiling at me from behind his dark round glasses. I nodded at him with a smile before he left with the rest of the Primogen, leaving me in the room with LaCroix and my best buddy, Sheriff.

"I'm in no mood for a speech," Sebastian said once the others were gone and his attention could be given to me. "Just give me the bullet points of what you saw and I'll sort it out later." Whatever the meeting was about, it was obviously not very pleasant for him. I was going to ask what was wrong before I realized that I didn't care.

"Not a lot of people survived, and there was a lot of blood." I didn't mention that I slipped on some of it.

"And the Sarcophagus?"

"I couldn't get a look at it first hand, but there were handprints on it that made me think it was opened from the inside." And then he did something I never thought he'd do. His face morphed into an expression other than anger. He was shocked, eyes wide. That had been the first time that I saw him looking like a real person with real expressions instead of just a constantly pissed-off statue man.

"Are you _sure_?"

"I'm pretty sure," But it didn't sound too convincing. I wouldn't have gotten mad at him if he started to yell at me for not being sure. I wouldn't have been too happy either. His face fell back to its usual unhappiness. He sighed.

"Alright, give me the ship manifest and whatever other notes you might have found and I'll sort it out later." I nodded and gave him what I found. He took the papers out of my hands and sat them on his desk, making me think that he would start looking through them after I left. I was about to do just that, but for some stupid reason or another I asked him about the Primogen.

"What were the Primogen doing here?" I asked, although right after I did I wished I hadn't. He gave me a dark look, but I was used to that look from him so it didn't really bother me. That seemed like the only way he knew how to look at me, with anger and the shadow of wanting to have my head cut off.

"I don't think that's any concern of yours at present. If at anytime it does become your concern, I will let you know accordingly." And he gave me the order to leave his office. Saying that I was done for the night and could take my leave.

"Fine, I didn't really want to know anyway," I said as I left.

But the thing was, I kind of did want to know. So on my way back to my apartment I decided that if Sebastian wouldn't tell me, I'd find someone who would.

And I knew exactly where to look.

**

* * *

**

Sorry this was so late. *Gives lame excuse, lame excuse, lame excuse* but mostly I was just busy with life. But hey! :D I _did_ do it! That should count for something right?

**Sorry again that it's so late x.x**


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_19. Chapter Nineteen_

I waited in the Tremere chantry while Maximilian was out taking care of some business. I was starting to get impatient waiting for him, besides the fact that it would be sunrise soon and Heather would panic if I wasn't back before. As dangerous as my job usually was, I could handle myself – but if I caught the sunlight, I would instantly fry. It was obvious why she would panic if I didn't come back before sunrise.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, neonate," Maximilian said coolly as he walked into the room. "My business took a little longer than I expected. Now, what brings you to my humble chantry?"

"You and the other primogen were at Ventrue Tower earlier tonight, can you tell me what for?" There were probably a wealth of other, better ways to bring it up, but I didn't have time to worry about that, I had a sunrise to beat.

Maximilian laughed, "Did our dear prince not enlighten his favorite assassin?" When he said I was LaCroix's favorite, I could almost feel my ego inflate and my face lighten up, but I didn't know why. He must have taken my silence as an answer, because he went on to explain. "The Malkavian primogen, Aleister Grout, hasn't been keeping in touch with the rest of us lately. We'd gone to LaCroix, concerned that something unfortunate has happened."

"And he turned you away," I guessed.

"After he said his piece, yes." I figured as much, LaCroix had a tendency to be a _teensy _bit selfish. I know, no shit, right?

After a moment, I spoke again:

"Would you like me to check up on him?" I asked. "I mean, he's Malkavian right? He's probably just paranoid that his phone is out to get him. You know how they can be."

He chuckled lightly. "You're probably right, and it would be a great favor to me if you would go check on him, just to be sure."

"I will tomorrow night; I'd never make it before sunrise." I paused for a moment. "What time is it?"

Maximilian pushed up his jacket sleeve to check his wrist watch. I took a moment to watch him in awe; I didn't know he wore a wristwatch! I'd probably have gotten one myself, but knowing my luck I'd end up breaking it.

"Ten till six."

"Fuck," I swore under my breath, throwing myself back down onto the sofa in a child-like tantrum. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have made myself look like an ass. But Maximilian was a Tremere, and for some reason they seem to like me better than the other clans. Maybe because I was a Tremere too? Nah, it's probably for my girlish attitude. "I won't be able to make it back to my apartment before frying."

"Then I will let you borrow a room, just for today." His sudden offer surprised me. Yet another thing that showed me that Tremeres tend to like me better than the others. LaCroix would never have given me a room in his penthouse if I couldn't make it back to my apartment in time. I could only imagine what he'd say, 'you should have been more attentive in your time management. Now you must suffer the consequences.' Or something wordy like that.

"Really? Why the generosity?"

He chuckled lightly, almost exactly the same way as before. Maybe an octave higher, I didn't know. "Are you so unaccustomed to acts of kindness, Neonate?"

"I work for LaCroix," I said, "What do you think?"

He only smiled this time. "You and I share similar blood, and this is a Tremere Chantry. Its rooms are always open to those familiar with our brand of blood magic."

I thought about it, and then nodded.

"Alright, thanks Max." I never usually called him Max, it reminded me too much of my own Max. He gave me a quick nod before leading me out of the room with the fireplace and up some stairs that sat in the entry way. We didn't say much, both of us growing tired from the coming dawn.

The room he let me use for that day had burgundy walls and a big, comfy-looking bed and blueish sheets. It was a nice room, but I liked my own apartment better, for some reason. Maybe because it was _mine_.

"Rest well, Neonate."

Several moments after he left, I decided to use the telephone beside the bed to call Heather and let her know I would be alright. If I didn't call her, and she panicked, and I turned back up, she would go mad with being angry at me. She'd probably get over it, but what kind of a friend would I be if I let her worry like that? Frying to death is a horrible way to die.

"Hello?" She answered after a few rings, sounding confused.

"Hey Heather, it's me. I just called to let you know I'm staying over at the Tremere Chantry until the sun goes back down, and then I'm going over to the Hollywood Hills to do a job."

"Oh, okay, thanks for letting me know."

I smiled. "Wouldn't want you to call LaCroix and scream at him for getting me killed when I was fine, would we?"

"If you get killed in the Hollywood Hills, I just might do that." I didn't mention that LaCroix didn't send me on the job, Maximilian did. It was just as easy to let her think otherwise, too much work to correct her. "Well, get some rest and try not to get killed."

"I'll do my best to let you down." We both laughed and I hung up. I laid down against the mattress and closed my eyes, trying to forget that I wasn't in my room for just that one day.

The funny thing was, I was supposed to live in the Tremere Chantry with all the others of my blood, but for some reason LaCroix decided to give me an apartment. I was sure there were probably a lot of Tremeres in the city who didn't live in the Chantry; I just couldn't name any off the top of my head.

Oh well, after the sun went down I would be stalking around some oddball Malkavian mansion trying not to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter.

Business as usual.

**

* * *

**

:O A whole month?! Wtf!? It took me a WHOLE MONTH to update?? Oh hell, probably because I forgot about it for a long time -.-' myyyy bad.

**Kinda slow in this chapter—but…idk. **


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_20. Chapter Twenty_

Before leaving for Grout's mansion, I took a quick shower at the Tremere chantry. The very moment that I opened the bathroom door, I shouted,

"HOLY SHIT!" and for good reason. The bathroom inside that _one_ apartment of the Tremere Chantry was like my bathroom back at the skyline apartment building, except doubled. Being two bathrooms in width, it made me jealous of the other Tremeres. How the hell did it work out so that I only had half the size of that one bathroom while all the others of my clan had that giant castle bathroom? I felt like a princess just standing there.

A princess in one of those shoot-em-up porno movies; 'Guns and Buns' if it had to have a title, I guess. While I made use of the time I had showering in that giant bathroom, I began to contemplate the likelihood that LaCroix would give me a bathroom that size in my apartment. Thought about it. Probably wouldn't happen. No, not probably. _Definitely_ wouldn't happen. There was no maybe about it.

Truthfully, I was lucky to have the apartment that I did and shouldn't be getting greedy. Or, at least, that's what I imagine LaCroix saying if I bothered to ask him. Yeah, no use asking if a 'no' is a sure thing. Right?

I got out of the shower and put my work clothes back on. If I was in my own bathroom, I probably would have had Heather run them through the wash to get the dried blood out of them. I didn't think a lot of it though; there were a lot more important things for me to think about.

Like how I was going to find Grout in what I assumed would be a Malkavian-house-o-fun.

I left without saying a word to Max, who was in the parlor tending to some pressing Tremere-related issues, knowing that if he realized I was gone he'd know where I went. I grabbed a cab somewhere down the street and told him to send the bill to the LaCroix foundation. LaCroix will have a field day when he gets the bill for a job he didn't send me on. But for some reason, I wasn't all that worried about it. If I found Grout, he couldn't get mad because he got exactly what he wanted. Behind his back, but he still got it.

The cab ride seemed to take forever. I never really thought about how far the Hollywood Hills was from Downtown LA. Never really thought it would come up.

When the cab pulled up outside the gates around Grout's mansion, I looked at it through the backseat windows. It looked normal enough on the outside, maybe a little tall. But it was a mansion; they tend to be a bit big. I wanted to believe that the inside was just as normal as the outside, but if it belonged to a Malkavian, it wouldn't.

As the cab sped off down the road, leaving me behind, I tried to squeeze my way through the big iron gates. I probably should've thought more about why they were open to begin with, but I didn't. At the time it seemed so normal and every day that I didn't even thinking about it.

I had to suck in my gut to be able to squeeze through the tight space between the gate halves. I tried to push one of the two sides to make a bigger hole to squeeze through, but they were stuck. At any rate, I made it through. Sure I got a leaf from low-hanging branch in my mouth and almost slipped on the loose dirt leading up to the house, but I made it.

But then I saw Nines walking out of the mansion.

In retrospect, I probably should've kept quiet and tried to figure out what he was doing there.

"Nines!" I shouted, against my better judgement. Immediately, his head snapped over towards me and his eyes grew wide.

"You…w-what are _you _doing here?" He asked defensively. I paused, trying not to let myself think I was being pushed out of my life and Nines was being put in my place. No, LaCroix would never do that, he needed me.

…Didn't he?

"I could ask you the same question." I said as I crossed my arms over my waist.

"N-No…"

"That…wasn't really a yes or no question." I said before I paused to think about it. "It wasn't even a question, now that I think about it."

"Y-You should get out of here. This place is bad news." He paused for a moment, as if he was trying to find a way out of his vocal blunder. _I_ should get out of here? _I_ was the one with the guns and the natural lust for blood. No pun intended. Besides, nothings too dangerous for a badass bitch like me. "Um…pardon me." And he hurried out the gate before I had a chance to stop him.

As I watched him run out the gate, leaving me alone on the Malkavian's doorstep, I started to feel something I hadn't felt in a long time. Left out.

Why was Nines at Grout's mansion when I wasn't supposed to be? He couldn't have been on a mission from LaCroix, why would he send his hated Anarch enemy instead of his semi-loyal hired killer?

Sebastian choosing Nines over me wasn't a pretty thought, and I found myself trying to convince myself that it wasn't true. He couldn't have, the two couldn't be together in a room for longer than fifteen point two seconds before they started trying to kill each other. Nines more directly than Sebastian, who would just make either me or Sheriff do the work for him.

But what if he _was _replacing me with Nines? What if he was tired of my clumsy way of getting the job done and wanted someone with a better grasp on the ability to do things without drawing attention to himself?

Thinking about it that way made me start to feel weird. Bad weird. Like I was going to be sick all over Grout's dirt path.

I went through the door anyway, trying to ignore the swimmingly sick feeling in my gut. When I saw a woman standing in the corner with her hands against her face, sobbing uncontrollably, I pulled my guns out from their holsters and held them at my sides; fingers near the triggers for quick access. This was not the time to be worrying over if Sebastian would rather have his hated enemy than me. Even if it was, why should I care? It wasn't like I would _miss_ that Ventrue bastard, if that's what you're thinking.

Slowly and carefully, I inched my way over to the woman and tried to decide if I should shoot her or not. I wished I could tell if she was a ghoul, vampire, or human just by looking. It would've made the decision making process go a whole lot easier.

All at once, the woman turned and around and tried to stab me with a big silver hunting knife. My own surprise made me fall back and miss being stabbed by only a few minutes. That had been one of the only times my gracelessness had saved my life. I brought one of my guns up and shot her in the face. I kept shooting, even if it was obvious that she wasn't going to come back up.

Now I knew, for future reference, that anyone besides Grout in the mansion was dangerous.

Hell, _Grout_ might not even be safe.

I snuck into the main foyer, where three more of those women and one bondage man were skulking about, making me think of rats for some reason. I brought my guns up and started shooting at the two women closest to me, but I didn't take into consideration what the other woman and the man would do. Like an idiot, I left myself open for an attack from them.

And that's exactly what I got.

They cut me when they had the chance, and when I brought my guns back from shooting the other two women, they hobbled over to me and tried to dig their hunting knives into my arms. I was backed up into a corner, and I couldn't figure out a way to get out. With no other option available to me, I did the one thing I could think of. It didn't matter if it was stupid or not, I didn't have any other choice.

I brought my foot up and gave a swift kick in the crotch to the bondage man and sent him into painful spasms. While he writhed on the floor. I kicked one of the women in the gut and shot one of the other ones in the eye. As for the last one, watching all the others get attack must have scared her because she staggered away form me, falling over bondage man.

While they all scrambled around on the floor trying to get a grip on what was happening, I managed to duck out of the room and climb under a tower of furniture built up in one of the halls. I was just barely able to get through, because one of the women managed to find her way off the floor and tried to grab my foot. In retaliation, I shot her through the sofa and, to my surprise, actually hit her in the face. Laughing, I squirmed out from under the furniture barricade and followed the hall.

"That'll show you! You stupid bitch!" I shouted as I ran backwards down the hall, taunting the probably dead assassin that tried to grab my foot and pull me back out. The minute I turned all the way around, I ran head-first into the part of the wall where the hallway starts to turn and become an L - shaped kind of hallway. I shouted every swear word that came to mind as I stood up from the floor rubbing my nose.

The next room had three separate candlestick holders jutting out of the wall, each holding a candle. They had to be fake though, because there was another bondage man pulling on it and making the flame go out. Not waiting around to make the same mistake again, I moved up quietly behind him, stuck the barrel of the gun against the back of his head, and blew his brains out all over the floor before he even had a chance to realize I was in the room.

Sitting on an end table was an ancient looking recording device, like something out of the sixties or seventies by my guess. While I knew that if it belonged to a Malkavian, it couldn't be good, my natural curiosity made me walk over to it and push the play button. Only to be surprised by the sudden voice coming over the speakers.

As what I took to be Grout's voice came over the speakers, I snooped around the room, making sure to step over the still bleeding body of the bondage man. On another end table was a slip of paper with what I thought was a Malkavian style poem written on it in fading pencil.

At first I didn't understand it, but then I remembered the way the bondage man was pulling on the candle stick and making the flame go on and off. Putting the paper down on the table next to the still-playing tape recorder, I went over to the far left and pulled on the stick the way the bondage man had. To my surprise, two of the three flames went out. I went over to the far right and did the same thing to that candle stick, and finally I went to the last one and pulled on it. I heard a noise that sounded like the tumblers in a safe, and then nothing.

After some investigation, I found nothing else of interest in that room. But it wasn't until I had the bright idea to leave that I realized that I had no where to go but back to the main room. The only other door in the hallway was locked up tight, as if he was worried someone would break in.

What ever would make him think _that_?

When I found my way back to the main room, I saw that the bondage man had collected himself off the floor and killed the only other crying woman left out of frustration of having missed me. Or, at least, that was my best guess. There's no way to really understand how a Malkavian's ghoul thinks. There's no way to really tell how a _Malkavian_ thinks. All you really have when dealing with that clan is you're best judgement.

The bondage man saw me crawling out from underneath the piles of furniture, sticking my hand in the blood of the crying woman I'd shot through the sofa and smearing it across the floor as I pulled myself across and then up, and ran to me with the intent to let the silver of his hunting knife taste the inside of my body. And frankly, that's disgusting.

Knives aren't vampires.

Just as he raised his hand to stick the knife into the top of my head, I blasted him in the throat. Before I knew which way was up, I was covered in throat guts and arterial spray. Some of it managed to get into my mouth; making me spit it out onto the floor. Vampires might be able to drink ghoul blood and all, but frankly, Malkavian ghoul blood tasted weird.

Taking only a minute more to mull over having killed bondage man, I headed for the only other door I could find and realized that what I heard in the candle stick room when I solved that stupid little puzzle was the new door unlocking. Feeling proud and maybe secretly a little narcissistic, I pressed forward feeling like the world was at my feet and no harm could come to me.

I was quickly put in my place when another crying woman sliced my arm with one of her knives and another man in bondage clocked me in the jaw. I would heal, and everything would be okay, but that didn't mean my pride would heal as quickly as my body. I was just glad that the only people who saw that were going to die anyway so it wasn't that big of a deal.

As revenge for cutting and hitting me, I shot the hell out of everyone in the room. By the time I was finished, it looked like a fuckin' V for Vendetta massacre scene. Blood smeared on the floor, on the walls, and blotched out the faces of the crying women and bondage man.

I'd somehow figured out how to get the trap door above the stairs to unlock and allow me a way through. I think it was my natural suspicion of Malkavian trickery and newfound paranoia of candlestick holders. At any rate, I got the trap door unlocked and proceeded up the stairs, only to be scared by the dead body of a bondage man laying sprawled out on the floor.

"Aww," I said to myself softly, "_I_ wanted to kill him." But when I realized I was talking to myself, I started getting worried that Malkavian tendencies were starting to rub off on me. But I thought about it and realized that I talked to myself as it was, nothing new. Thinking about it that way made me a lot less worried for my own sanity.

Things just started getting worse after that. I had to deal with trick fire places; tall, winding towers that seemed to go up past the stratosphere— Whatever that is, I heard Sebastian say it once.— and electrical knob-like things hanging from the ceiling that could only be turned off by systematically flicking switches all around the room. Its when I had to fight my way down a hall through hordes of bondage men and crying women and I emerged in a room with a redhead woman encased in glass that I started to feel things were getting back to normal.

If I considered a woman encased in glass _normal_, you can guess what kind of night I'd been having.

Suddenly, I was tossed about in a hallway by a massive explosion. Like an earthquake directly beneath my feet, I fell backwards onto my ass and tumbled around a bit until the shaking stopped and I was able to get my footing back.

Still feeling shaky and a little afraid— a lot more than I'd be willing to admit, actually— I shoved my way through Grout's bedroom door to find it nearly in shambles from the earlier explosion. But the thing that caught my attention was the skeleton tied to the bed by strong metal chains surrounded in thick piles of ash. A stake was plunged in where its heart had once been, and two stakes in the palms of its hands. Almost without being consciously aware of it, I knew exactly what had happened.

Grout was dead.

Another explosion sounded, and this was the fire I needed lit under my ass to get me moving. I ran out through the other set of doors and onto a balcony, where I saw the whole bottom room completely in flames, with a hooded shadow shouting at me from across the way.

"Grout! Return to hell and burn by the flames!"

As an example of following an idea that was probably not the wisest one to follow, I shouted back,

"I'm not Grout! You killed him already!"

"Grout is _dead_? Pity it could not be by my hand. No matter! Soon, your self-made kings, false prophets, and all who bear the mark of the beast will be washed from the earth, for the coming of the lord!" That was when this character had a sort of French accent kind of voice. Like in those movies when people try to pretend to be French but end up just sounding stupid. "All agents of Satan shall return from whence they came!"

"Okay, come on now, let's talk about this!" I hoped reasoning would work, although I don't know why it would. Of course, he wouldn't hear of it.

He ran off shouting something at me, but I couldn't really hear what it was. I was too busy prepping myself for the only choice I had left. Closing my eyes, I leapt from the frying pan into the very literal fire.

After that, it was all a matter of following my own personal advice. When in doubt, run like hell. And I _ran_.

Bondage men chased after me and tried to catch me on fire, and some were able to get my jacket to catch in some spots. I, because of my gloves, was able to slap the flames on my trench coat until they were completely dead. It was hard, though, to do this while running away from men on fire who were strong even when they weren't running balls of death.

I had to get my ass in gear.

Panicking, I ran through one of the first doors I saw on my way out. It wasn't until I was completely inside that I realized that I had run myself into a dead end. With the mansion exploding all around me and bondage men gathering around the outside of the room like moths to a light, I decided to go with the best idea I had at the time. This was no time to be trying to figure shit out.

I pushed my boot through the glass and, while the glass was still clinging for dear life onto the wood of the window, I slid out and rode my way down the shingles on the roof until I hit the rain gutter. From there I pulled a very impressive _Underworld_ kind of flip and landed on my feet. I tried not to waste time being proud of myself, because I didn't have that kind of time.

It took me several minutes to get a cab to take me back to the city, and even when I found one I had to pay the driver out of my own pocket because he wasn't familiar with my 'LaCroix' discount. But paying the cab driver was the very least of my problems.

Chunk looked at me with wide, surprised eyes when I came into the lobby smelling like the result of a very bad relationship between the microwave and cooking popcorn.

"Smells like somebody burnt the burgers," He mused as I stormed up to his desk.

"LaCroix, _now_!" I shouted, a probably unnecessary thing to do. But I didn't have time to worry about being polite; I'd make it up to him later with a very good apology and maybe some money.

Without another word, and with big bowls of fear swimming in his eyes, he pressed the elevator button and I was taken up to the pent house. I coughed, even though I was starting to heal, my whole insides still felt that guy on one of those Steak House steak sauce commercials who tried to lick the sauce off the searing hot grill and his mouth swelled and foamed. That was the only image that seemed to accurately fit how I was feeling inside.

Throwing the giant pent house doors open with all the strength I still had holding my arms up, I shouted,

"_Grout is dead_!"

**

* * *

**

D: Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! This was a horrible amount of time! I got distracted and, before I knew it, a whole month had gone by. But here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for :D

**Again, sorry it took so long!**


	22. Chapter TwentyOne

**Disclaimer: I don't own V:tMB and I kinda own my main character, the part I don't own is the fact that she's Tremere. Her clan, plus all the identifiable V:tMB characters are owned by White Wolf Inc. The rest of my main character I do, in fact, own. Please be kind, this is my first V:tMB fic.**

_21. Chapter Twenty-One_

Sebastian looked at me with distant eyes as silence filled the room like tap water in a glass. The only sounds I could hear were the faint sounds of the city streets below the pent house. But they were faded, almost non-existent in our place high above the city.

Finally, LaCroix spoke, "Grouts dead…_what_?" In an almost melancholic tone that made me see that he was capable of emotions other than anger. Red with rage wasn't his only color. "How would you know that?"

"I went to his mansion," I said, trying not to say that I saw Nines Rodriguez there. "And he was dead before I got there. There was some hunter there who tried to kill me—"

"Why would _you_ go to Grout's mansion?" He asked, sounding like he was trying to control his anger. "What business could you _possibly_ have there?"

I looked off to the side for a moment, not wanting to meet his gaze when I told him that I'd defied his orders. It was easier to do without seeing the boiling anger before it bubbled to the surface. "Well, you wouldn't tell me what the primogen wanted, so I went and found out myself. I thought maybe I could help."

"I think what you mean to say is that you got curious and decided to pry and poke your nose in where it wasn't needed."

I smiled sheepishly.

"You know me so well," But then I stopped smiling and looked at him with more seriousness than I even knew I was capable of. "But let's get back to what's important here. Grout is dead and a hunter tried to kill me."

"A hunter?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Tell me, what did this hunter look like?"

I paused, trying to think back. I hadn't really had time to take in what he looked like, I was too busy trying not to be made into toast. "I don't know. I think about your height, brown hair tied into a pony-tail, heavy-jacket, scar over his eye…"

"Bach," He growled, "Just when I think he's lost the scent."

"I'm sorry," I said, interrupting his train of thought. "I didn't buy a program on the way in. Can you explain to me what the hell is going on? How do you know this 'Bach' guy?"

He looked like he was trying to ignore my smartass comment. "Bach is a hunter. They stalk and kill our kind to appease their—" He got an expression on his face like the next part was completely hilarious and silly. "— God. But, like so many mortals, their faith is nothing but a conduit for which they quench their killing urge."

"Why can't they be more like me and just kill for the fun of it?" I asked crossing my arms and shaking my head. "Mortals these days, they've got to have a reason for everything."

"Did you see anyone else there?" LaCroix asked, almost completely ignoring my comment yet again. I don't know why he refused to acknowledge that I was funny, I was on a roll.

"Like you don't know," I snapped, flashing my teeth at him. "I saw your new little assassin."

I saw his face morph and change into that of total confusion. He quickly covered it up though, and in a few seconds it didn't look like he even made the face. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I know about your plan. You're planning to replace me with Nines Rodriguez. Its one thing wanting to replace me, but why do you want to replace me with someone you normally _hate_?"

"Look at me. Are you _sure_ you saw Nines Rodriguez?" He asked, sounding angry and half-afraid. I nodded, suddenly realizing that I might have accidentally ratted my friend out. "If it was…the consequences…do you know where this might lead?" I shook my head.

"Not a clue."

"Under most circumstances, I would call a blood hunt immediately. But the Anarchs might interpret such an action as an affirmation of war. The last thing I want is to war with them. This decision will take time, and I'll need to confer with the primogen before I make such a decision. In the mean time, I've come to a decision on the Ankaran Sarcophagus. I need to call upon your skills once again, and I need you to bring the Sarcophagus to me so I can put it under Camarilla protection. This shouldn't be difficult, considering your lust for labor."

"You're- you're not replacing me?"

"I'm not sure what made you think I _was_." I wanted to say that it was because I thought he sent Nines instead of me. That I was feeling left out and angry. But I didn't. It sounded ridiculous once I realized that I wasn't losing my job. "Now, the Sarcophagus was delivered to the museum of natural history a few hours ago, I suspect that it was while you were out gallivanting around with Anarchs and hunters. I would like for you to bring it back here for safe keeping. Now, it is of utmost importance that you do not kill any of the law enforcement officers as on the Dane. I know that will be difficult for you, but remember that mortals are just as easy to _deceive_ as they are to _kill_. It's becoming more and more difficult to cover up your violent indiscretions, so please make yourself scarce until you are able to acquire the Sarcophagus."

His long speech was making me sleepy.

"Gotcha," I said, giving him a tired sailor salute. It was easier to be an ass to him when I knew I wasn't going to lose my job. You'd think that with all my smartass comments and little on-the-job accidents, I would've lost my job one-hundred times over. Wonder what it is that keeps him from firing me.

"And be sure to keep your eyes open for a small box listed on the manifest." He added just before I left to do the job. Well, first I was going to check in with Heather; but that wouldn't take too long. "And you are _not_ open the sarcophagus for _any_ reason."

"I got it, I got it." And I hurried out the door before he could change his mind and fire me. I felt bad for ratting on Nines, but it had been accidental. I thought he was replacing me, and I wasn't going to let LaCroix string me along like some kind of dog on a leash. So that has to count for something, right?

Heather was sitting on the couch when I went to the apartment to check on her. I also planned to grab a bunch of new clips for my guns. No reason to go all the way to the museum only to find out that I don't have any bullets. These were mortals anyway, easier to kill with guns.

"Hey," I said when I opened the door. All at once, like a collective bolt of lightning, Heather jumped up from the couch and threw her arms around me. She held onto me with a death grip that I didn't think she was capable of, I mean, she has really small arms and comes off as fragile. You wouldn't think she could hold on like that either.

"Oh thank god!" she breathed, sounding like she was going to start crying into my almost-burnt work clothes.

"What? I told you I had work."

"It's on the news! That house in the hills just- like- exploded! Vampires can't live through fire—"

"Neither can anything else," I said, grabbing her shoulders and prying her off me. "But, as you can see, I'm fine. Nothing can kill me," I gently hit my knuckles against her chin. No where near hard enough to hurt her at all. "I'm invincible."

She laughed, obviously trying to keep herself from crying. "You're also very conceited."

I smiled. "Or I'm just an asshole. Either way." I tried not to shake my smile, but it was hard to look at her obviously worried face and tell her that I'm only stopping by to check in and grab some more bullets for another job. "Listen, I've got another job I need to do- I'm not expecting anything to blow up this time- so I need to grab some bullets and get going."

Her laughter died almost instantly, and she looked at me with those big green eyes so filled with near-tears that made me feel like the worst person in the world. But I had a job to do; she knew how dangerous shit could get.

"It shouldn't take me long, okay? Cheer up and keep watching the news. Most you'll probably hear about is the museum getting robbed. No explosions, and _LaCroix_ said no gunfights- but I can't promise that one."

"Figured that," She said with a smile, referring to the gunfight thing.

"So I gotta go; you know how LaCroix is." She nodded, and I could feel her eyes on my back the whole time it took me to cross the room and go up the stairs to get the bullets from the desk drawer in my room. I found them sitting on top of some old papers that I hadn't looked at in years, looking like they knew I was coming and were just waiting for me to come. I picked up two of them and put them in my guns before taking a few more out and sticking them in my pockets just incase. I hoped I wouldn't have to use them, but we all know that's not gonna happen. People always get shot when you rob a museum.

And to think, I used to _pay_ to see art.

**

* * *

**

:O wow, it didn't take me a month to update this time! Woo! This one is kinda short because I wanted to end it right before the museum and there wasn't a lot to do before. So its not as phenomenally long as the others. I…guess?

**P.s: Lady Rain will no longer be beta-ing my story. She's got too many obsessions to deal with, and I hope I can make her proud by not messing up! (well, not too bad anyway xD ) **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter!**


End file.
